Prophetic Charisma, Narcissism & Authoritarian Power(An analysis of the phenomenon of Castaneda and charismatic leaders)
Selected excerpts from Corey Donovan
“The tragedy that all authoritarian structures breed, particularly so-called spiritual ones, comes from giving absolute priority to another’s viewpoint. This involves mistakenly identifying as spiritual [or “sorceric”] the (usually temporary) conflict-free emotions and passions that come from surrendering to an authority. The tragedy is compounded in our times because our survival as a species depends upon adults coming to the fore who can break the shackles of old authority and tradition, creating new forms of relating to each other and to the planet we live on. In order to do this, we must use all we have: our bodies, our emotions, our minds, and all types of information from the world around us. Blind surrender to authority is an emotional indulgence and illusory security the species can no longer afford.”
“The narcissist attacks separateness in everyone with whom he must have a relationship. Either they fit into his ego-supporting mold or they are extruded from his life. Narcissistic rage and aggression are based on fear. His entitlement to absolute control over others must go unchallenged.”
Included on this page:
- Prophetic Charisma
- Charismatic Leaders and Narcissism
- “Supernormal” and Developed Characteristics of the Charismatic Narcissistic Prophet
- The Followers
- Narcissism and ‘Narcissistic Wounds’ Introduction by Corey Donovan ”¢ Sex, Lies and Guru Ploys: Insights from The Guru Papers by Corey Donovan
- Theories of Early Childhood Development of the Prophetic Charismatic.
Prophetic Charisma: A Psychological Explanation for the ‘Castaneda Phenomenon’
Introduction by Corey Donovan
Cory writes: The best single book I’ve yet encountered on the whole topic of narcissism, gurus and cults is: The Psychology of Revolutionary Religious Personalities (1997) by Len Oakes, an Australian psychologist.
One of the insights in the book is the “missing link” I’ve been searching for in the dozens of books on narcissism I’ve looked at. I have felt there were elements in what I observed of Castaneda’s personality (and have had confirmed by other witnesses) that were well described by the material on narcissistic personality disorder (NPD). I also think that material pretty well “explains” the behavior of “Carol Tiggs” and “Nury Alexander” that I saw and/or have since learned about. In Castaneda’s case, however, it seemed there was something extra, something almost “supernatural” about the way he related to people and caused many of us to “shut off judgment” that was not fully explained by NPD theory. Dr. Oakes argues that charismatic “prophetic” figures are different, in a couple of key ways, from most people, and suggests ways in which their narcissism develops differently from that of the average narcissist.
Charisma, the magnetic ability of some people to inspire and lead others, is an enigma that most of us have experienced yet find hard to explain. The concept seems inherently mysterious and indefinable, but the power of a Churchill or a Hitler to dominate others is obvious. What is this thing called charisma?
The most primitive form of charisma occurs in shamanism. The shaman– “one who is excited, moved, raised” (Lindholm 1990, 158)–becomes master of the “techniques of ecstasy” (Eliade 1964). Typically he or she is identified early as one with a “shadowed heart.” The shaman is not psychotic but is disturbed in some way–the “disease of God,” as the Koreans put it (La Barre 1980, 58)–showing peculiar behaviors from birth and experiencing spirit possession, trance, and epileptic seizures while a youth. Such a youth is apprenticed to a senior shaman, who trains him in occult practices. After hearing a call from a god or a spirit, the trainee withdraws into the desert or the woods to meditate in solitude, often undergoing some kind of spiritual test, such as a journey to the underworld. This culminates in a spiritual rebirth from which the shaman emerges with an inner strength and an uncanny sensitivity, emotional intensity, and detachment. Transformed, the graduate shaman returns to the tribe to claim his place as tribal witch doctor (Kopp 1972, 31-32).
Thus the shaman is a “wounded healer” who has conquered a sickness and learned to use it as a vehicle for the benefit of others. He or she is able to explore sacred realms and mediate with the spirit world on behalf of the tribe (Ellwood and Partin 1988,12). Allied with this are the skills of psychopharmacology, healing, and the mastery of trance states. The shaman presides over the ceremonies, ritual functions, and crises of the tribe.
The shaman is unpredictable and fearless, holding office by virtue of personal spiritual attainment–his “psychological voltage” (La Barre 1980, 52)–and having mysterious, dangerous, supernatural powers. The shaman’s peculiar disturbance and training enable him to “pierce the vanity of the conventional wisdom of the group” (Kopp 1972, 5), to diagnose its ills and prescribe social cures for the members. Anthropologist Weston La Barre described “the eerily supernatural omniscience and compelling power of charisma, streaming from the shaman like irresistible magnetic mana,” and said that it comes from an ability to discern his clients’ unconscious wish-fantasies, adding that the shaman “is so unerringly right because he so pinpoints these wishes” (La Barre 1980, 275). It is this power that earns the shaman his place, for he is feared rather than loved.
Charismatic Leaders and Narcissism
Weber defined charisma as “a certain quality of an individual personality by virtue of which he is considered extraordinary and treated as endowed with supernatural, superhuman, or at least specifically exceptional powers . . . [that] are regarded as of divine origin.” Weber added, however, that the leader’s disciples–those who see him as divine–are as much a source of his power as are his personal talents, for without them he is nothing (Weber 1968a, 241-42).
The charismatic prophet claims authority by sheer force of personality. He points to some mission outside or beyond his self that he embodies, and his mission involves the radical change of current values. Weber spoke of an “emotional seizure” that originates in the unconscious of the leader and results in three “extraordinary” emotions: ecstasy, euphoria, and political passions. These emotions arouse similar feelings in others, who become followers (Weber 1968b, 273-74); the greater the leader’s emotional depth and belief in his calling, the greater is his appeal and the more intense is his following (Weber 1968a, 539).
Weber thus comes close to Freud’s theory of society (Freud 1930), in which repression is seen as necessary for civilized life. To Freud’s basic scheme Weber adds the Dionysian element of charisma, most typically through a leader who calls the followers to a new life, a new vision, and a new freedom when society breaks down or becomes too repressive to bear. This tension between release and restraint, between the call of one’s deeper nature and the demands of one’s social group, is at the center of Weber’s theory. Charisma “rejects all external order,” “transforms all values,” and compels “the surrender of the faithful to the extraordinary and the unheard of, to what is alien to all regulation and tradition, and therefore is viewed as divine” (Weber 1968a, 1115-17). The smoldering passion for freedom, for release from all restraint–including the restraint of one’s own conscience–may lie latent in us all.
Despite Weber’s work, charisma remained a mysterious, even mystical, concept until Heinz Kohut and other psychoanalytic theorists began to study it. [footnote: Malcolm 1980, 136. See Kohut 1959, 1960, 1966, 1971, 1972) Throughout his voluminous writings on narcissism he has described so many behaviors typical of charismatic leadership that the connection is virtually indisputable. Kohut studied a difficult class of disturbed patients with what is known as narcissistic disorders. As he studied them, he noticed similarities between them and charismatic leaders. Kohut spoke of charismatic personalities rather than leaders because most of his patients were not leaders–indeed, some were barely able to function–but they possessed many of the traits of charismatic leaders.
What was it among his narcissistic patients that made Kohut think of charismatic leaders? He initially noticed that when they presented for therapy, they showed grandiose self-confidence and–unlike most patients–an extraordinary lack of self-doubt. Often they would be quite clear-headed and perceptive; Kohut recounts how one such patient accurately diagnosed his (Kohut’s) shortcomings while in therapy. In addition, they could be very persuasive and accusative. These obvious strengths made them quite distinctive as a group; they did not present in the demoralized, anxious manner of most patients.
However, in time this facade of competence became less stable. Their confidence began to give way to vain boasting and a naive sense of invincibility. Unrealistic, grandiose fantasies appeared in their conversations, along with a streak of exhibitionism. So “brittle” did their confidence and self-certainty become that they were sometimes unable to admit to a gap in their knowledge; their need to appear strong was so shallow as to render them unable to ask for information, assistance, or advice. They were reluctant to seek therapy but had been forced to do so because of having been compromised by various fraudulent or sexually perverse behaviors.
As therapy progressed, these patients became increasingly unrealistic, hypochondriacal, and self-pitying. The nearer Kohut approached to the core of their disturbance, the more catastrophic were their reactions. They were also revealed to have little or no conscience or sense of guilt. Their relations with others were characterized by a sense that others were merely extensions of their (the patients’) own egos. Sometimes these relationships were reduced to dominance of one individual who was all that was left in an otherwise empty reality.
In sum, these patients appeared to be both happy and healthy until one looked a little deeper. Then a profound emptiness was revealed, an emptiness that coexisted quite functionally with their superficial health and wisdom. They appeared to be able to accommodate this paradox–and other contradictions–because of an “all-or-nothing” quality of their personality that was so committed to an appearance of strength as to have split off all awareness of their deeper emptiness. Their extreme self-containment and self-absorption, along with their confident social manner, made them very appealing to others, who seemed to warm to some part of themselves that they recognized in these figures. This “mirroring” process in which a strong figure sees others as parts of his self, while the others see themselves in him, alerted Kohut to a narcissistic explanation of charisma.
“Supernormal” and Developed Characteristics of the Charismatic Narcissistic Prophet
The pattern of early relationships most likely to predispose a child toward narcissistic, and ultimately charismatic, development includes an especially close but inappropriate relationship with a primary love attachment who teaches and models for the child the necessary elements for such development.* (See * Theories the ˜Prophetic Charisma” Development in Early Childhood below for the theories of how this is so) This includes protecting the child in an unrealistic manner from learning about the reality of reality, while inducting him or her into a semi-divine social role. At some time such a relationship breaks down. This may occur suddenly and dramatically or slowly and gently, but when the break occurs, the child struggles on as best he can with the elements of this early relationship fixed in his mind as the basic matrix for all future relationships. Some children may be damaged permanently by such an environment, but for those with peculiar talents and intelligence, some adaptation may be made that both accommodates and denies reality. What this is most likely to involve will be discussed soon.
In sum, this research demonstrates the child’s emerging ability to attribute subjectivity “internal states “to others (Bretherton 1985, 31), an ability that may become crippled during early development yet remains powerfully influential throughout adult life , provided that basic needs are met (Erikson 1963). This directly parallels the theory of narcissistic development. The charismatic personality carries within the self a working model of reality that is in some way defective in its attribution of subjectivity to others–in short, narcissism. This defect inclines such a person to behave toward others in certain ways derived originally from the relationship with a primary caregiver. In later life these behaviors render such a person an attractive focus for charismatic affections by others.
However, to overcome a defect requires that compensations be made. Hence, any talents the child possesses have great survival value when he is attempting to maintain his narcissistic worldview. The followers in this study agreed that certain abilities, especially memory and social insight, were highly developed in their leaders. It is likely that these skills became so well-developed because of their survival value. These abilities are also related to other aspects of charismatic leadership, such as the subtle detachment of prophets and a certain fearlessness they possess. In the developing narcissistic child these traits may form a complex that becomes stimulated to exceptional levels of function. This brings us to the second question posed at the beginning of this chapter: Given the motive to become a prophet, how does one do so? What talents are needed?
In interviews with followers, the most frequently reported gift possessed by their leaders was an acute insight into other people. Some of the examples given seemed to verge on the paranormal–telepathy and omniscience being the most frequent–and were like the tales told of Jesus at the well or of Fritz Peris doing therapy. Excluding supernatural explanations, how can this insight be accounted for?
Kohut insists that charismatic personalities have stunted empathy for others (Kohut 1976, 414), a suggestion that seems to run counter to the extraordinary empathy shown at times by prophets. But Kohut also argues that this stunted empathy may actually sharpen some perceptions (Kohut 1985, 84-87). The leader comprehends his environment “only as an extension of his own narcissistic universe,” and he understands others “only insofar–but here with the keenest empathy!–as they can serve as tools toward his narcissistic ends, or insofar as they stand in the way of his purposes (Kohut 1976, 417). There are problems with Kohut’s usage of the term “empathy” (Oakes 1992,139- 42), but the main point is that the charismatic personality possesses an acute perception of the feelings and behaviors of others. Yet he is unable to truly empathize with them, to feel within himself some resonance with their feelings. He interprets what he observes in terms of concepts that he holds in an intellectual way but not with any genuine opening of the heart. The theories he holds may even be true for him; he may have personally experienced the truth of, for example, the Christian worldview within which he interprets what he sees, but he is unable to suspend this worldview and genuinely empathize with another whom he observes. Lacking empathic responsiveness, he relates his observations to his beliefs rather than to his feelings. Thus it is really a kind of intuitive, intellectual analysis that he is engaged in; he is a “cold” rather than a “hot” system.
To digress briefly in order to describe what this condition might be like, there exist, in the writings of clinicians and some theorists, well-corroborated accounts of extraordinary human perceptiveness. Alfred Binet calculated that the unconscious sensitivity of a hysterical patient is at certain moments fifty times more acute than that of a normal person (Binet, cited Jung 1976). Others have remarked on “the exquisite sensitivity of schizophrenic patients to their social environment” (Dobson 1981) and on the “almost paranoid hypersensitive” awareness of narcissistic people (Balint 1965); Kohut also discusses such phenomena (Kohut 1971, 95). It seems that some deeply disturbed patients are able to sense the unconscious states of others with an almost psychic sensitivity. They can understand others’ defense mechanisms even when these are out of the awareness of the person concerned. They probably do this by subliminal perception of body language and paralinguistic cues.
It is likely that in such persons the capacity for communication with another’s unconscious has been sharpened in early life, and is maintained longer than is usual. It becomes a kind of subtle emotional radar that makes one a superspecialist in understanding unconscious states, while at the same time limiting one’s ability to understand ordinary life. Psychoanalyst Helm Stierlin relates this ability to narcissism. He notes that young children are able to gather and organize data in ways that most adults have lost (Stierlin 1959, 148A9). They can perceive, in a particularly immediate and clear way, feelings and moods in others that are out of the others’ awareness. This ability is a carryover from infancy and is similar to certain instincts in animals. Other clinicians have described how, as a result of the crystallization of thought processes in childhood, our way of experiencing the world becomes increasingly stereotyped and zombielike. As adults we no longer experience the immediate, intense, and colorful quality of life radiating toward us from nature. Rather, we experience the world in terms of our already formed and more or less petrified ways of thinking and sensing. Only occasionally may we rediscover something of the lost intense quality of moods and experiences, when the crust of concepts and structures that has increasingly overlaid and denaturalized our consciousness is lifted (Schachtel 1947, 1954). The narcissistic personality is, however, closer to such experience than others, for he has retained much of his infantile mind-set; he sees most clearly when the emperor has no clothes.
Kohut also says that narcissistic leaders are “superempathic” with themselves (Kohut 1976, 414). This may explain why the leader impresses a select few with his divinely inspired insight yet is ignored by others, who dismiss his message as banal or dangerous. For the leader is recognized as charismatic only by those whose needs he addresses and whose values he shares. He epitomizes their concerns. For them he seems to possess the sharpest vision into human affairs. But perhaps his clarity is not into others but only into himself. For others with similar values, complementary needs, or even a similar psychological makeup, his superempathy with his self may appear as an extraordinary insight into the world as they know it. When he talks about others in terms of his understanding of himself, he seems to possess astonishing acumen because these others genuinely are like him.
The group that forms around the leader is at first made up of people who share his vision. His appeal is restricted to them because he does not speak the truths of others. His limited perceptions are less apparent when he deals with his own group, where his clichd rhetoric and generalized argument are accepted. He relates intensely to them, and develops a heightened sensitivity to their unconscious hopes and fears, for they are like his own. But to those with different values and needs, or whose psychological makeup is very different from his, he will seem to be quite misguided. Hence we have the phenomenon of the charismatic leader who describes the world in terms of, say, the central concepts of the Christian worldview–that is, sin and salvation–concepts that are true for him, and thus he speaks with utter conviction and has tremendous impact on fellow Christians, yet there are others with, say, a secular-humanist worldview, whom he fails utterly to impress. He is unable to understand groups that are different from his, and he fails to understand his own group when it changes.
By viewing the social world as part of his self, the narcissistic prophet lives partly within, yet partly outside, consensual reality; partly in the real world and partly in a fantasy of his own creation. He is sustained by his subjective heroics–he is a legend in his own mind–and he tends to perceive other people as types and clichs rather than as individuals. When they behave differently from how he wills, proving that they are not part of his self, he feels rejected and treats their behavior as a personal affront, a frightening and mysterious disturbance to his solipsistic universe. Thus the prophet suffers when his reality is exposed as fantasy. This may happen often because he is fundamentally out of synchrony with how others view the world. He may take these hurts in his stride because he knows no other existence, but he longs to remold the world into a less jarring place.
His sufferings make him acutely sensitive to the sufferings of others. He learns to focus on their hurts, to articulate their hopes, and he urges them to identify their needs with his. In this way he comes to manipulate them, to melt them into his personality, bringing them and their actions under his control as if they were his limbs, his thoughts, and his feelings. The leader does not recognize his limitations; he merely dismisses others whose values are not similar to his own. His inability to comprehend human reactions beyond a certain range may contribute to his ultimate downfall. As his followers change, he may develop a steadily increasing contempt for them, as Hitler became contemptuous of the Germans when they did not completely fall in line with him. This misreading of others is the most common cause of charismatic failure.
Another line of Kohut’s theory deals with the social detachment of narcissism. Such individuals are unable to genuinely involve themselves in the affairs of others (Kernberg 1974; Kohut 1971, 1977) because they are psychologically detached from their fellows, a detachment that can be both a strength and a weakness. As Kohut describes it, the profound narcissistic isolation of the disturbed patient precludes any rewarding relationship with others (Kohut 1971, 1977). Less severe manifestations may, however, be another source of the sharp perception of charismatic leaders, who seem not to get caught up in other people’s games. In a crisis they can withdraw into themselves, to a more peaceful state, and reflect without fear of intrusion and in a nonjudgmental, amoral way. In this way they are enriched by insights that are not available to others who live more completely within social norms and who align themselves with conventional values (Stonequist 1937). The impression is of a slightly aloof person whose lack of involvement provides him with an overview, a clinical detachment or “strategic vision” (Conger and Kanungo 1988), a free- floating, detached scrutiny that is extremely useful in a crisis and that was well-described in a biography of Fritz Perls (Gaines 1979, 100). Such a person is not overwhelmed by the intensity or closeness of conflict and is able, with a cool head, to accurately diagnose a problem and plan a solution.
The narcissistic leader reacts differently. He is able to comfort the grieving and assist the injured with care and sensitivity because his emotions don’t intrude. He does what is required with calm competence because he does not really see these people as like himself. For all his genuine compassion, his feelings are more like those of a kindly vet treating an injured animal than of a human being helping a fellow sufferer. His detachment allows him to respond accurately and efficiently to the situation without experiencing, or at least not to the same degree, the horror and revulsion that normals feel. Of course, as an intelligent person he is consciously aware of the horror of the scene, aware that it could happen to him, but he is driven by an unconscious grandiosity that holds him aloof. Intellectually he knows that it could happen to him, but emotionally he knows that it won’t!
But there is a paradox here, for it is only by distorting reality that he comes to see it more clearly. That is, by failing to grasp the full significance of external reality, by denying the true otherness of others, the charismatic personality is able to accurately observe their behaviors and deduce their inner states. In time the inner states of others that cannot be explained by his worldview, those parts of reality that contradict or lie beyond his model, may cause problems, but these will be explained away.
Now to memory, for there is something odd about the charismatic leader’s use of memory. A lasting impression one retains of any charismatic leader one gets close to is of his singular memory, and of his equally singular lapses. However, memory is not a trait that impresses a researcher in the field doing a short-term investigation, so it tends to be overlooked in studies of charisma. Few scholars mention it, and then just to note in passing that charismatic leaders have excellent memories (Willner 1984, 144-46). But because memory is central to most cognitive functioning, this study sought comments from followers regarding the “central gift” or any “semi-magical quality” or “extraordinary gift . . . that seemed utterly striking” possessed by the leaders.
All the followers agreed that the leaders had good memories, but several mentioned that they had noticed some oddities. For example, the leaders tended to repeat themselves in a stereotyped manner– “Sometimes he’ll say something that he’s said a day or so, a week or so, before. He’s ma[d]e a point in a particular way and then he repeats it in exactly the same way the second time around. And I’ll be sitting there looking in his eyes, thinking “Surely you remember telling me this a couple of days back?’ But he doesn’t seem to, and I’ve never asked him about it.”
From the descriptions received, it was clear that the leaders had developed myths about themselves and the world made from bits of information stored up and practiced over years. These myths were polished and presented as sermons or teachings in which the leaders defined their missions. One follower explained, “If something’s happening in [his] life, he gets it up into a story that he tells everyone. He’ll repeat that story almost verbatim, but each time he does it, it’s like he’s telling it for the first time.” Another described a “preaching mode” that her leader was in most of the time and in which he went “round and around” without knowing that he did it. Another added, “I’m sometimes uneasy when he does it, because I’ve heard it before and I know how it’s going to go end, but I have to wait for him to run all the way through it before we can carry on.”
The effect of this is odd. It is as if the role of prophet–and perhaps even the leader’s whole personality–is organized into schemata. The feeling is of watching a pattern of behavior that is consistent but strained, as if the leader’s manner of attending and conversing had been set up within a particular role that had been perfected years before and within which he has complete confidence and ease of recall. He has a surety that he can respond to any question with an answer that is already there, somewhere in his head; that has been given on similar occasions; and that he can access easily. Charismatics can range freely over a broad knowledge base, yet much of what they say seems rehearsed and unreal. Sometimes, when taken by surprise, a leader would look momentarily perplexed and quizzical, then go into a kind of intuitive mode, as if he were listening for something within, yet still with the relaxed confidence of one who knows he has all the answers and merely needs a second or two to access them. The seamlessness of these performances was such that one tended to forget that normal human speech and thought are hesitant, uncertain, meandering, and repetitive. The performances were all too persuasive and reassuring to be real. And there sometimes seemed to be an element of play in their delivery. The distinction between the spontaneous and the contrived had vanished, and it became impossible to know how much of what they were saying was genuine and how much was part of some deep personal myth that each had worked out long before. Perhaps most of what they said was genuine, but each lived largely inside a myth of his own creation, and they used their excellent memories to find their ways around within these myths. They tended to repeat themselves in stereotyped ways, to be constantly “in role” or “on stage,” yet without any compelling sense of falsity.
These patterns of behavior may be related to a tendency by all the leaders to communicate in clichs–very effectively, but clichs nonetheless. All the leaders, when attempting to explain something, showed a penchant for homely simplifications in the manner of “if-this-beach-ball-were-the-sun-then-our-earth-would-be-a-grain-of-sand-at-the-north-pole” type of metaphors. But clearly they did not think in this way (an analysis of Hitler’s personality discussed this trait as “infantilism”; Hiden and Farquharson 1988, 15). It was as if, in needing to have an answer for everything in order to appear omniscient, the leaders had organized much of their personalities into bundles of memorized “response sets” (Chaplin 1968, 426) governed by automatic “if . . . then. . .” heuristics that left them free to work on other problems, and that gave them the reassuring illusion that they had answers. Yet often the knowledge contained within these prepared responses was impressive indeed (see Oakes 1992,149-150 for a fuller description).
In sum, charismatic personalities have excellent memories that they use in their strategies of impression formation. In doing this they seem to be able to influence the function of memory itself, sometimes improving, yet at other times lessening or distorting, its performance while themselves appearing vaguely unreal.
In explaining this ability we may recall Stierlin’s statement that “the undifferentiated child has also capacities for obtaining and organising data that most adults have lost” (Stierlin 1959, 148). This comment links unusual cognitive performances with the undifferentiated state of primary narcissism, and may identify the source of the talents of charismatic leaders. It is as if, in retaining an archaic state of mind, if only partially or subconsciously, charismatic personalities also retain some of the cognitive abilities that go along with it, abilities that lie dormant in most of us. This happens with other unusual talents that are common in children but disappear or diminish with age. Examples include eidetic imagery and map reading. Eidetic imagery, popularly referred to as “photographic memory,” has been extensively studied and found to be rare among adults, but about 8 percent of children possess it. The ability seems to peak shortly before puberty and to decline sharply thereafter, making it a trait restricted mostly to young children (Haber and Haber 1964).
Map reading is a skill that has a relatively sudden onset at about age three, but, unless it is worked on, seems not to develop much beyond levels achieved fairly early in childhood. If children are given the opportunity to learn map reading, their abilities soon equal or exceed those of most adults (Young 1989). The full potentials of these two skills are seldom realized in adults, and there may be many other abilities similarly underutilized. Michael Murphy of the Esalen Institute, who has made a study of such talents, lists twelve psychological functions that he believes have “metanormal” capabilities (Leonard 1992; Murphy 1992).
How these talents arise and are developed is not known, but some suggestions have been made. George Klein (Klein 1966) relates memory functions to defense mechanisms, and a study by Ernest Schachtel presents a cornucopia of possibilities. According to Schachtel, an adult’s memory is qualitatively different from a child’s, and is not fit to preserve children’s experiences and enable their recall (Schachtel 1947, 4). During development there occurs a separation of “useful” from “autobiographical” memory, the former becoming increasingly specialized and the latter increasingly subjective. However, split-off parts of a child’s memory ability may continue to develop in isolation, becoming highly specialized while retaining their infantile character, and perhaps culminating in fantastic abilities. Chapter 9 will return to this point, but note here the eerie impression that all of this creates. These abilities can easily be mistaken for pathology, giving the impression that the prophet has sprung Rasputin-like with strange powers and dangerous impulses from some hellish realm. Hence the inevitable question arises concerning his mental health: in short, is he mad?
The prophet’s apparent craziness may arise from two sources. First, an extremely narcissistic worldview is likely to strike others as strange at least. This is the oddness in the prophet’s sense of reality, of self and others. He sees things differently from others. At times he may be remote, at other moments powerfully present, and later still, just peculiar. Some people find this disturbing and others, inspiring, and the prophet may detect these reactions and accentuate his behaviors to enhance the impression he wishes to make. Second, there may be genuine psychopathology. It seems likely that prophets suffer the same mental aberrations that afflict us all to some degree. Kohut spoke of Hitler as having a “healed-over psychosis” (Kohut 1985), Jim Jones was obviously paranoid, and several Pentecostal leaders have had psychotic episodes (Harrell 1975). Max Weber, who cautioned against the overuse of psychiatric explanation (Weber 1968a, 499), nevertheless sometimes associated madness with charismatic leaders (Robins 1986, 17), while other scholars have developed entire theories of charisma around the so-called “borderline” personality type (Post 1986). The presence of pathology may also account for the altered states and visions reported by some prophet figures as occurring even as young as age three (Harrell 1975, 28).
Charisma may be related to manic depression (Jamison 1993). Now grandiose, then brooding, the prophet may flip-flop through periods of energized positivity and fatalistic negativity, giving to the followers with the one hand but taking away with the other. Joseph Smith and L. Ron Hubbard were exemplars of this pattern. [Footnote omitted.] Manic depression, which is also thought to be related to creativity, has been found to have a significant genetic component. In addition, at least some personality traits are heritable, allowing for the possibility that the entire narcissism-charisma complex may be genetically related to manic depression (Horizon 1989; Hodgkinson et al. 1987; Loehlin 1982; Jamison 1993).
It is hard to say how abnormal behaviors develop in charismatic personalities. Whatever role they may play in the life of a particular prophet, and whatever is the balance of environmental versus biological influences, can only be inferred retrospectively and will vary in each case. But regardless of genetic factors, the prophet’s behaviors are primarily–though not solely–the result of his social context, for even major psychotic disorders require the right environmental conditions to emerge. He is neither inherently mad nor purely the mouthpiece of God, nor even especially mentally healthy. Rather, his behaviors arise from the interaction of his nature and his social milieu, and his mental aberrations may form an intrinsic part of his message. He is not insane, but he is highly creative, and this may better explain his eccentricities. ”¦”¦”¦”¦”¦.
What might the agenda of an extremely narcissistic person such as a prophet be like? It should, in crucial ways, repeat the basic dynamic of the early fusion of mother and infant, either symbolically or substantively. Later, as the child grows, the agenda becomes obscured by learned concepts, values, and roles; it gets overlaid with culture, education, and tradition, and it is channeled and transformed by socializing influences to such a degree that when it finally emerges in adulthood, it may do so as a utopian ideology–a mission or a calling or a prophetic career–but at base the psychological meaning of paradise is mother love.
The transition from childish hopes to utopian vision occurs during incubation, when the youth translates infantile experiences into mature concepts and feelings. In so doing he creatively rearranges his mental world. The developing prophet-child’s creativity is spurred to extreme achievements by the tension between his egocentrism and the world’s indifference. Deep down he knows that things should be other than they are, and his fertile mind translates his early narcissism into a “memory or vision of paradise” (Heinberg 1991).
The emerging prophetic vision, because it stems from an insoluble conflict between the prophet’s narcissism and the world (neither of which can be easily changed), exists as an immutable force that drives him forward to reinterpret social events and to claim special status for himself. If the prophet can get a handle on the world and make it reflect his egocentrism, he can be reassured. If he can share this reordered social reality with others, he may serve their needs and they, his. Hence he is inclined toward mastering the skills of social and personal manipulation, both by his own needs and by the needs of others. By influencing others in the way he once influenced his mother or primary caregiver, he realizes his, and their, hopes for salvation.
The Followers
Outsiders often criticize the extreme commitment of group members. But what is really happening is that leader and followers are conspiring to realize a vision that is falsified daily. For the cult is not paradise, and the leader is not God. Hence the follower is embattled; to squarely confront the many failings of the leader and the group is to call into question one’s own great work. Only by daily recommitting himself can the follower continue to work toward his ultimate goal. Each follower works out a secret compromise, acknowledging some things while denying or distorting others. Clearly this is a high-risk strategy that may go awry. In discussions with followers one often senses that in some corner of their hearts they keep a critical eye on the many inconsistencies of the group.
Most can reflect on their extremes, such as being led into antisocial behaviors because of their dependence. Sometimes they feel bad about this. Later they might wonder “How could I be so gullible? All the warning signs were there, so why did I ignore them?” Outsiders wonder this, too. What is overlooked is the deeper agenda that the follower joined for, and that required the leader’s support to perform. Perhaps, paraphrasing Ernst Kris, we might describe followership as surrender in the service of the ego (Kris 1952); that is, an act that appears to be regressive but is freely willed and somewhat controlled, and that constitutes a temporary strategy in the pursuit of a higher goal. [Footnote: The case for therapeutic regression has been put by Balint (1965) and Winnicott (1960). Wolff (1978) and Gordon (1984) provide supportive perspectives on this interpretation of involvement in alternative movements. Camic (1980, 19) describes the follower’s behavior as “altruistic surrender.”]
Narcissism and ‘Narcissistic Wounds’
Introduction by Corey Donovan (from a post dated Sept 17, 1999)
A big part of my personal journey over the last few months has been an effort to understand why Castaneda’s messages (and personality) appealed so much to me, and why I was increasingly drawn in, ultimately ignoring certain warning signs, to the point that I was nearly willing to do whatever he wanted.
I am fairly well-educated, a professional, have had years of therapy, and thought I was pretty aware of most of my motivations and predilections prior to meeting up with Castaneda & Co. I’ve also known since my first major round of therapy in the mid-80’s that I was the child of a narcissist.
Some of you may have read Alice Miller’s groundbreaking The Drama of the Gifted Child about issues common to children of narcissists. Reading it (at the insistence of my therapist) was the most devastating experience of my life (up until Castaneda’s death and the departures of Florinda and Taisha), since I couldn’t get through even a few pages without feeling overwhelmed with grief on recognizing that the parental “love” I experienced as a child had always been felt as being entirely conditional on my performance, achievements and “mirroring” the attention my narcissistic mother demanded of me. After years of unsatisfying relationships with other narcissists, therapy (which I had entered due to basic, inescapable feelings of emptiness) helped me realize that my attraction to these self-centered, overbearing, larger-than-life, and predominantly cold and manipulative types was due to looking to fill the “narcissistic void” generated by my upbringing. This awareness eventually made it possible for me to become attracted to, and enter into my first long-term relationship with a non-narcissistic partner, and to the kind of “healing” and emotional learning that is possible in a truly nurturing interpersonal relationship.
Several years later, when I met Castaneda and the “Witches,” I was immensely attracted to their claims of having “eliminated ego” from their lives. I was also attracted to their assertions that they had given each other sorceric “blank checks of affection.” Little did I know that I was about to become enmeshed with people whose grandiose fantasy lives outdid those of anyone I’d ever known, and whose pathological, non-empathetic manipulations of their “followers” and closest associates can still leave me gasping in horror and awe.
I submit that the chronologies already produced on “Carol Tiggs” and “Nury Alexander” would lead most psychotherapists to a conclusion that they are indicative of textbook cases of narcissistic personality disorder–i.e., people with an inflated sense of self-importance and grandiose fantasies who have a sense of entitlement accompanied by the tendency to exploit. Castaneda also fits the basic NPD definition, in my opinion, but shares certain additional traits common to other charismatic religious and spiritual leaders that are not necessarily typical of others with NPD. (For further explanation regarding these traits, see Prophetic Charisma: A Psychological Explanation for the ‘Castaneda Phenomenon.’)
The following excerpts from Trapped in the Mirror: Adult Children of Narcissists in their Struggle for Self, will hopefully help illustrate why children of narcissists are particularly attracted to charismatic, narcissistic partners and “gurus.” In reading this material (including more posts on narcissism to come), I suggest reflecting not only on what you have so far heard about Castaneda’s behavior, but also keeping in mind the “willing follower” type predominant among the Cleargreen staff.
Excerpts from Trapped in the Mirror: Adult Children of Narcissists in their Struggle for Self by Dr. Elan Golomb (1992)
From the Introduction:
“People who are relatively free of narcissistic traits (most of us have some) do not attempt to place themselves above others. They are unconcerned with such comparisons. They stay in touch with their feelings and try to do their personal best. Their standards are internal and realistic since they have a good idea of who they are and what they can accomplish (such objectivity is not insignificant). They are not free of idealistic wishes and dreams.
Narcissists are wholly different. They unconsciously deny an unstated and intolerably poor self-image through inflation. They turn themselves into glittering figures of immense grandeur surrounded by psychologically impenetrable walls. The goal of this self-deception is to be impervious to greatly feared external criticism and to their own roiling sea of doubts.
This figure of paradox needs to be regarded as perfect by all. To achieve this, he or she constructs an elaborate persona (a social mask which is presented to the world). The persona needs an appreciative audience to applaud it. If enough people do so, the narcissist is relieved that no one can see through his disguise. The persona is a defensive schema to hide behind, like the false-front stores on a Western movie set. When you peer behind the propped-up wall, you find . . . nothing. Similarly, behind the grandiose parading, the narcissist feels empty and devoid of value.
Because his life is organized to deny negative feelings about himself and to maintain an illusion of superiority, the narcissist’s family is forcibly conscripted into supporting roles. They have no other option if they wish to get along with him. His mate must be admiring and submissive to keep the marriage going and his children will automatically mold themselves into any image that is projected upon them.
Here the tragedy begins. A narcissist cannot see his children as they are but only as his unconscious needs dictate. He does not question why his children are incredibly wonderful (better than anyone else’s) or intolerably horrible (the worst in all respects) or why his view of them ricochets from one extreme to another with no middle ground. It is what they are.
When he is idealizing them, he sees their talents as mythic, an inflation that indicates they are being used as an extension of his grandiose self. When he hates them and finds their characteristics unacceptable, he is projecting hated parts of himself onto them. Whether idealizing or denigrating, he is entirely unaware that what he sees is a projection and that his views are laying a horrible burden on his child.
The offspring of narcissists grow up fulfilling their assigned roles. They may sense that they are in a state of falsehood, but do not know what to do about feelings of non-authenticity. They try all the harder to become what they are supposed to be, as if their feelings of uneasiness come from an improper realization of their role. If their parents see them as miserably deficient, from the shape of their bodies to the power of their minds, that is what they become. If they were portrayed to themselves as great muckamucks, especially if they have innate ability to fulfill a powerful role, they become the movers and shakers of society.
At heart, children of narcissists, raised up or cast down by the ever-evaluating parent, feel themselves to be less than nothing because they must ‘be’ something to earn their parents’ love. Conditional love offers no support for the inner self. It creates people who have no personal sense of substance or worth. Nourished on conditional love, children of narcissists become conditional. They find themselves unreal.”
From chapter entitled, “How to Recognize a Narcissist and Narcissism”:
“As a child, the narcissist-to-be found his essential self rejected by his narcissistic parent. The wounds of the parent are a template for the wounding of the child. Each narcissistic parent in each generation repeats the crime that was perpetrated against him. The crime is non-acceptance. The narcissist is more demanding and deforming of the child he identifies with more strongly, although all his children are pulled into his web of subjectivity. How can he accept offspring who are the product of his own unconsciously despised self? . . . .
The child who will eventually turn into a full-scale narcissist most often had a narcissistic mother. The reason why the maternal narcissist is more often likely to turn her child into a fellow narcissist is because the mother most often provides the predominant care that defines the baby’s early world. If the father is narcissistic and the mother is not, the father’s traumatic impact is attenuated at the time when the child is establishing a sense of self.
The narcissist-to-be turns away from a world he perceives as devoid of nurturance and love (since a mother’s care gives the child its first version of the world). He withdraws into grandiose fantasies to shield himself from profound feelings of unworthiness caused by the fact that his mother does not really love him. Grandiosity permits him to believe that he is complete and perfect unto himself, thus shielding him from his secret sense that he is a ravening beast, ready to murder others in order to eat and survive. The food of this beast is admiration.
The narcissistic mother, caretaker of the child’s earliest years, is grandiose, chronically cold but overprotective. She invades her child’s autonomy and manipulates him to conform to her wishes. She rejects all about him that she finds objectionable, putting him in the anxiety-ridden position of losing her affection if he expresses dissatisfaction. She responds to his baby rages and fussing with anxiety, anger, or withdrawal. He becomes unable to cope with the ugly feelings that threaten to erupt and destroy the bond between him and his mother, the bond he depends on for survival.
His mother’s grandiosity models a way out of his dilemma. She places him on a common throne, sharing the rarefied air of her greatness. By appropriating and embellishing the aura of specialness in which she has enveloped him he can create a grandiose fantasy about himself to escape to. This fantasy eventually crystallizes into a psychic structure we call the grandiose self. A new narcissist is born.
For all his air of self-sufficiency, the narcissist is full of interpersonal needs. He is more needy than most people who feel they have something good inside of them. If he is to survive, he must find a way to get his needs met without acknowledging the independent existence of the person off whom he wants to feed. To admit that a person is necessary to him gets him in touch with feelings of deficiency, which plummet him into intolerable emptiness, jealousy, and rage. To avoid this experience, he inhabits a one-person world. Either he exists and other people are extinguished or vice versa. In his mind, he is center stage and other people are mere shadows beyond the proscenium. This solution creates a new conundrum: ”How can I get fed without acknowledging the feeder?” The solution is to dissect people and to turn them partially into objects, to make them inanimate. A person comes to represent a need-fulfilling function or an organ like a breast, vagina, or penis. There is no overall person to consider.
. . . Since he is not psychotic and totally out of touch with reality, he is occasionally forced to recognize the presence of a benefactor. The emotional incursion of such an idea is warded off by demeaning the gift or the person who has given it. If a gift is unworthy he doesn’t have to feel gratitude. Not to say that he does not at times proffer thanks. A narcissist can be quite charming when he wishes to impress, but his words are not deeply felt.
He usually does not see the need to go to such lengths with his family. They belong to him and are supposed to cater to his needs. His children are particularly crushed by his lack of recognition for their attempts at pleasing him since he is the main figure in their world. Adding insult to injury, they can always count on his criticism when what is offered falls below his standards.
Despite his bubble of grandiosity, the narcissist is remarkably thin-skinned, forever taking offense and feeling mistreated, especially when people appear to have eliminated the extras in their response to him. Less than special immediately implies that someone may be thinking the emperor is naked, precisely what he fears. He is enraged whenever the aching corns of his insecurities are stepped on.
A narcissist tends to have transient social relationships since few wish to abide by her rules. She has quick enthusiasms, business associates but few friends. Her closest are other narcissists who keep a comfortable distance while exchanging gestures of mutual admiration. Neither makes emotional demands on the other.
In a mate, if she does not choose a fellow narcissist, she will cohabit with a person who feels inadequate and who needs to hide in a relationship. This suits her well since she doesn’t want to recognize the existence of another being. Often, her mate is the child of a narcissist, already indoctrinated to regard exploitation and disregard as love.
The grandiose narcissist in her automat world may not feel the emptiness of her life, although her narcissistic traits cause suffering in all those with whom she has intimate contact. She only comes to recognize that something is wrong (not necessarily with herself) when the environment no longer supports her grand illusions and she fails to live up to expectations of greatness. At this time she may become depressed and seek psychotherapy to relieve the pain.”
From Chapter 4:
“The narcissist attacks separateness in everyone with whom he must have a relationship. Either they fit into his ego-supporting mold or they are extruded from his life. Narcissistic rage and aggression are based on fear. His entitlement to absolute control over others must go unchallenged.”
Although the overall picture of narcissism can be readily understood, small details of [narcissistic] behavior are inexplicable. There is no rational explanation for what a completely self-centered person will do. What they themselves say about it later bears no relation to the original motivation. They often surrender to overpowering impulses based on distorted, one-sided, and limited perceptions.”
Sex, Lies and Guru Ploys: Insights from The Guru Papers
by Corey Donovan [email protected]
One of the books that some of us have found useful in analyzing and putting in perspective the pattern of behavior on the part of Castaneda and his concentric inner circles that has been coming into sharper focus in recent weeks is Joel Kramer and Diana Alstad’s The Guru Papers: Masks of Authoritarian Power (1993). Excerpts from the book that help put Castaneda’s behavior in context with that of other “authoritarian” figures appear below. First, however, it might be helpful to review some of the aspects of Castaneda’s behavior that may be relevant to this analysis.
In abstract terms, what we are dealing with is a man who held himself out as a teacher with a unique position and unique abilities: he claimed to be the last of an ancient lineage that supposedly held the secrets not only to traveling bodily into other worlds or dimensions, but which also offered the promise of a form of immortality–evading death by keeping one’s awareness intact. He claimed to have a unique “energetic configuration” “one that he and his colleagues purportedly had not seen in any of the thousands of people they had interacted with over the past few decades “that gave him special abilities and capacities as the “Nagual.” He also had an inner circle that included women who could supposedly corroborate many of his stories about his own mythic, ideal teacher, and who also characterized the current teacher as “egoless,” “empty,” “not a man anymore,” and “very much like don Juan was.”
Due to his unique position and abilities “which supposedly included being able to “see” others’ true natures and innermost secrets “this teacher was virtually unquestionable as an authority on the teachings he claimed to have received and the ways in which people needed to change and act in order to experience the phenomena his lineage had supposedly experienced. It was also suggested– to some degree in public workshops, but even more in small groups and by members of this teacher’s “inner circle”–that this teacher’s “special powers” included the ability to accelerate the development of similar abilities in his “students,” and that he could even “fix” various “energetic” problems, holes and obstacles, especially in women, through what would be described in other contexts as casual sex.
Because one of the prime directives of this supposed lineage was to “erase personal history,” the questioning or investigating of the bona fides and “facticity” of the accounts of this teacher and his closest colleagues was harshly criticized and condemned, even though this teacher himself told endless stories about what had supposedly happened to him and his colleagues at various points throughout their lives. And because “stalking” “acting certain roles designed to evoke particular reactions, or “assemblage point shifts,” in oneself and others “was supposedly a prized technique of this teacher’s lineage, it was simply an aspect of their “skill” that their interpersonal relations and activities were shrouded in layers of secrecy and false stories.
Because of this teacher’s unique position, abilities and “lack of ego,” it was also not “abuse” when he regularly attacked, publicly humiliated, falsely accused or initiated the “shunning” of his “disciples” and colleagues. On the contrary, all such behaviors were passed off as examples of the teacher’s selfless and “impeccable” teaching techniques.
I guess that’s enough of a review for the moment. Before turning to the excerpt, however, it is important to note that the term “guru” is used in the book solely in a functional sense, i.e., as someone who has attained some special ability or level of awareness that he holds himself out as being capable of being able to generate in others and on which he is the sole or primary authority. Likewise, the term “cult” is used in the book “in a specific way to refer to groups with an authoritarian structure where the leader’s power is not constrained by scripture, tradition, or any other ‘higher’ authority.” P. 32.
The authors distinguish between “cults” and “religions” as follows: “Probably all religions with an individual founder started as cults, becoming organized religions when, through widespread acceptance, the structure itself and its symbols became more important than the individual leaders who succeeded the founder. Cults become religions whenever they build up traditions, a body of myths, parables, scriptures, and dogmas that are interpreted and protected by specialists (priests, etc.) who see themselves as the guardians of the truth, not the bringers of it.” Id. In a cult, by contrast, “absolute authority lies in a leader who has few if any external constraints. This means the leader (who is usually the founder) is not merely the interpreter but is also the creator of truth, and thus has free rein in what he proposes.” P. 33.
The following excerpts are taken from Part 1 of the analytical portion of the book, entitled “Personal Masks”
“Like religions, cults offer meaning, purpose, identity, and community. But the feeling of unity is more intense in cults as their internal cohesiveness depends on protecting the purity of the group from outsiders. Thus there is relentless group pressure for loyalty and conformity. As social animals, many of our strongest feelings come from group alignment. Cults offer a powerful matrix that breaks through individual boundaries and amplifies energy. Often what grabs the person is not a specific leader or ideology, but rather the configuration of emotions that is part of the state of surrender itself. Gurus can arouse intense emotions as there is extraordinary passion in surrendering to what one perceives as a living God. . . . . Should the guru become paranoid, greedy, or merely bored, as many do, they can get their disciples to do most anything.
. . . Most gurus present themselves as being beyond the foibles resulting from ego.” (Pp. 33-34.)
“Surrender to a guru, though a way of filling a spiritual vacuum, is also one of the most powerful forms of mental and emotional control on the planet today. Especially insidious are the images of superiority tied to the presumption of greater wisdom, moral purity, or an enlightened state. Whether or not there is any reality behind these projections can be endlessly debated. The issue for us is not who has more wisdom or insight, but rather how this presumed wisdom is used. Asserting that one human being fundamentally knows what’s best for another is authoritarian. If this is accepted, it sets up a chain of inevitable relational patterns that are detrimental to all players of the game.
. . . We do not question the need for people to connect with something more profound than their own personal dramas. We do question the viability of religions that present this world as a stepping stone to some other more important realm. Once this occurs, it is inevitable that religious experts delineate how to reach this other realm and what must be sacrificed in this world to do so. This always includes renouncing self-centeredness “an endless task.
Because the power of traditional religions comes from furnishing unchallengeable answers about the unknown, they are inherently authoritarian. Religions deflect examination by ordaining faith and belief to be sacred, while maintaining that no ordinary person can know enough to take issue with the beliefs they put forth. A further hindrance to the intelligent examination of religious tradition is the social taboo against doing so.” (pp. 36-37.)
“The need to appear right when presenting oneself as a spiritual knower is greater than in any other arena because knowing is what makes one essentially different from seekers. Admitting any fallibility not only removes one from that exalted place, but makes it difficult to compete with other presumed knowers who do claim infallibility. Part of being a knower is knowing that seekers are searching for certainty and that if you don’t offer it someone else will.
. . .In the traditional guru/disciple structure, disciples are expected to surrender their will to the guru. This is presented as necessary for the guru to lead the disciple to realizations that can only be achieved by giving up the mundane attachments previously accumulated. This, of course, includes material attachments; but more importantly, surrender is presented as the means of letting go of the more deep-seated psychological attachments, which include the very structure of personality and identity (what is called ego).
As surrender to a guru is an integral part of being a disciple, this offers a paradigm for examining the needs surrender fills, the emotions it generates, and why it appears to offer quick access to change. In our view, deciphering the mechanism of surrender can only be done by viewing it in tandem with control.” (pp. 47-48.)
“Surrender is one of the most powerful forces and emotional states that a human being can touch into. Passion literally means abandonment, letting go; thus surrender is a way to passion. It is possible to surrender to many aspects of life: a person, an ideal, one’s art, a religion, a political system, the revolution, and even the living moment. Surrender is so potent precisely because it shifts control to an arena that is free, or more free, from one’s inner dramas and the conflicts involved in personal decisions. If I surrender my heart to you, then being with you becomes central in my life. . . . . Surrender is a basic part of life, as is control. What is being examined and taken issue with is surrender as part of authoritarian control.
In the East a guru is more than a teacher. He is a doorway that supposedly allows one to enter into a more profound relationship with the spiritual. A necessary step becomes acknowledging the guru’s specialness and mastery over that which one wishes to attain. The message is that to be a really serious student, spiritual realization must be the primary concern. Therefore one’s relationship with the guru must, in time, become one’s primary emotional bond, with all others viewed as secondary. In fact, typically other relationships are pejoratively referred to as ‘attachments.’ Once the primary bond with the guru is established, a powerful configuration of factors comes into play.
The ostensible reason for fostering surrender is it detaches followers from certain deep conditionings presumed to be obstacles on the spiritual path. But it does not detach them from one of the most insidious and powerful conditionings of all “the predilection to look for an authority that one can trust more than oneself. On the contrary, gurus happily leave intact that basic conditioning. To be someone’s authority is to be firmly implanted at the very center of their being. So although most gurus preach detachment, disciples become attached to having the guru as their center, whereas the guru becomes attached to the power of being others’ center. These reciprocal attachments are ignored because attachment to the guru is considered spiritual; and the guru, who is presumed enlightened, is by definition supposed to be beyond attachments.” (pp. 49-50.)
[The authors then proceed to list some of the types of scandals that tend to arise under these circumstances: (1) sexual abuse, (2) material abuse, (3) the abuse of power and (4) self-abuse. Under the category of sexual abuse, they note “the deceit that is seemingly innocuous to some people, involving a pretense of celibacy or monogamy while having clandestine sexual activity.” Under the category of “self-abuse,” they note the common contradiction that, although the message is that “the body is the temple of spirit and must be so treated; a healthy body is the result of a healthy mind and spirit; tranquility, compassion, and emotional control are signs of arrival” “”many leaders display the opposite: drunkenness, obesity, vindictiveness, rages, and physical ailments that in others would be called psychosomatic, such as allergies, ulcers, or high blood pressure. In fact, a close examination of the history, past and present of many religious leaders shows a high incidence of what might be termed self-destructive indicators.” P. 51.]
“When abuses are publicly exposed the leader either denies or justifies the behaviors by saying that
“enemies of the truth’ or ‘the forces of evil’ are trying to subvert his true message. Core members of the group have a huge vested interest in believing him, as their identity is wrapped up in believing in his righteousness. Those who begin to doubt him at first become confused and depressed, and later feel betrayed and angry. The ways people deny and justify are similar: Since supposedly no one who is not enlightened can truly understand the motives of one who is, any criticism can be discounted as a limited perspective. Also, any behavior on the part of the guru, no matter how base, can be imputed to be some secret teaching or message that needs deciphering.
By holding gurus as perfect and thus beyond ordinary explanations, their presumed specialness can be used to justify anything. Some deeper, occult reason can always be ascribed to anything a guru does . . . . He punishes those who disobey him not out of anger but out of necessity, as a good father would. He uses sex to teach about energy and detachment. . . . . For after all, “Once enlightened, one can do anything.” Believing this dictum makes any action justifiable.
People justify and rationalize in gurus what in others would be considered unacceptable because they have a huge emotional investment in believing their guru is both pure and right. Why? Why do people need images of perfection and omniscience? This goes back to the whole guru/disciple relationship being predicated on surrender. Surrender of great magnitude requires correspondingly great images of perfection. It would be difficult to surrender to one whose motives were not thought to be pure, which has come to mean untainted by self-centeredness. How can one surrender to a person who might put his self-interest first? Also, it is difficult to surrender to someone who can make mistakes, especially mistakes that could have a significant impact on one’s life. Consequently, the guru can never be wrong, make mistakes, be self-centered, or lose emotional control. He doesn’t get angry, he uses “ anger to teach.” Pp. 52-53.
. . . Surrender to Christ and to a guru have similar dynamics, as they both bring about feelings of passion, a sense of purpose, and the immediate reduction of conflict and tension. It is difficult for disciples to avoid the trap of using their new-found good feelings and relatively peaceful emotional state as verification that the guru and his worldview are essentially correct. As many do, they use “feeling better” as their litmus test for truth.
The power of Eastern religions and the gurus that represent them is that they offer a living Christ-like figure to worship [e.g., “don Juan”], and also hold out the promise that anyone who does the proper practices could conceivably reach that high state, too.” P. 54.
The next excerpts are from an enlightening chapter entitled, “Guru Ploys”
“A guru, to be a guru, must know how to move people into a psychological state of surrender and keep them there. Gurus know that those who show any interest in them rarely do so out of mere curiosity, but want something they are lacking. What many people crave these days is a sense of connection or union with something they consider sufficiently profound to give their lives meaning. The very act of surrender initially brings this about.
Psychological authoritarianism is based on manipulating desire and fear. Hence the motivational techniques utilized to induce and perpetuate surrender are the usual promises of rewards (worldly or otherworldly) and threats of punishments. Getting people to surrender leans more heavily on the reward side [e.g., immortality, or traveling in infinity with a band of powerful sorcerers], while keeping them there depends more on emphasizing the dire results of leaving the guru [e.g., “I”m her only chance,” and “it’s one minute to midnight”].
[The authors then note that these control techniques are sometimes unconscious on the part of the guru, especially if they themselves were trained in a tradition and are simply “repeating what they were taught and what was done with them by their own guru.”]
. . . Aside from the more tangible rewards, they reinforce devotion with attention and approval, and punish its lack by withdrawing them. Though some gurus say that doubts are healthy, they subtly punish them. Doubt is not the way to get into the inner circle.” . . . .
In the initial seduction phase, the potential disciple becomes the focus of the guru’s or group’s attention and is made to feel very important. Then enticements are dangled in the form of testimonials, promises of extraordinary experiences, and offers of unqualified friendship and care “heady stuff. A convincing persuasion is that devotees not only claim to feel so much better now than before, but to those who have known them previously, they do in fact appear happier. Once an initial commitment has been made, techniques geared at disorientation come into play. This is done through undermining both self-trust and one’s previous attachments and support systems. Critical thought and relying upon previous experience are made to appear the source of one’s past or current problems. One spiritual leader claims to be the real parent, while labeling the biological parents the “devil parents.”
The most enticing message to induce surrender is that only in this way can one achieve true spiritual advancement [e.g., “the only way to hear us properly and to make the needed personal changes is by ˜suspending judgment.”].
…At some point, disciplines or techniques are given that have a specified goal and predicted end result. For example, people are told that through meditating in a specified way they will eventually experience blue lights or see the guru’s face, or some other internal occurrence. What the promise is matters little because the mind can eventually construct any image it focuses upon. One is also told that regular practice will eventually bring higher states of consciousness and possibly even enlightenment, though this can take years or lifetimes.
Once a disciple has had the predicted experience, the guru and group reinforce belief in its importance. The first mini-experience (say of blue lights) is presented as a significant step on the spiritual path. Having a mini-experience gives hope that grander ones will eventually occur. The experiences derived from the practices are then used as verification of both the guru’s power and the truth of his worldview. But all this actually proves is that these experiences can be mechanically induced through mental techniques, and thus are predictable. People are often further conditioned to look at the guru as the fount or source of their newfound positive feelings.” Pp. 61-64.
“[S]urrendering to any leader or ideology can bring powerful feelings and an instant new identity. The feeling of renewal often includes believing that one has wiped one’s moral slate clean. The power of conversion experiences lies in the psychological shift from confusion to certainty. The new beliefs become essential to hold and defend lest all the good feelings that come from certainty vanish.” P. 65.
“After the newness of conversion wears off, some doubt may return. To maintain allegiance, a support system that reinforces people’s new identity is crucial. Power within the group is gained by deepening surrender to the guru, and members reward each other for making the group the priority. Deepening surrender does feel like letting go of ego and is defined by the guru as spiritual progress. Secrecy and arousing desire are important parts of the seduction. The guru dangles carrots of esoteric knowledge that he will transmit when he deems the disciple ”ready.” Waiting for each new piece of hidden knowledge not only keep devotees around, but receiving pieces of it (one never gets it all) confirms their worthiness and specialness. Now they, too, have knowledge that others do not.” [My Sunday group colleagues and I, I think, can confirm the truth of this paragraph.]
“Any conflict disciples have about submitting to the guru’s authority is defined pejoratively as resistance to a higher truth, the intrusion of ego, or a sign of unwillingness to give up attachments. Since surrender initially alleviates conflict and brings extremely good feelings, it is a powerful form of conditioning. If people end up feeling good and more open, they mistakenly conclude that whatever promoted it must also be true and good. Thus ‘feeling good’ and opening boundaries are erroneously equated with truth. Conversely, anything that contradicts the guru’s point of view is labeled “negativity”; so information that runs counter to accepted beliefs is repressed and punished. This ploy conveniently prevents negative feelings from being used as feedback that something might be amiss.
People whose power is based on the surrender of others develop a repertoire of techniques for deflecting and undermining anything that questions or challenges their status, behavior, or beliefs. They ridicule or try to confuse people who ask challenging questions. Throwing the question back at the questioner is a common, easy-to-use ploy. This is done by attempting to show how the question displays some lack in the questioner. . . . .
Another ploy is calling whatever seems to be problematic a “test of faith.” As these tests become more extreme, the release that passing the test brings is also more intense. This is why it is possible for the leader to get his increasingly bizarre behaviors accepted. Anything can be looked upon as a test of faith. Once reason has been undermined, there’s no way logically to refute this system “that”s why people who are ordinarily considered highly intelligent can become involved in believing, doing, and justifying just about anything.
. . . Still another ploy is parceling out, or taking away, power over others in the group.
Mysterious or supernatural powers have always been used to validate religious authorities. Even today many people operate under a basic assumption that the ability to perform some act that defies ordinary explanation means the person who does this has an inside track to truth, or “higher” truth. . . . .
Special powers people are reputed to have include healing, transmitting energy that gives others special experiences, and feats of magic such as materializing objects. . . . . With such phenomena, the usual concerns involve what’s really going on. Are these powers magical, or some kind of ESP, or chicanery that depends on people’s gullibility and readiness to believe? Is the source of energy transmissions in the guru, or within a relational matrix where the receivers have a particular openness to receive? Is experiencing intense energy a sign of spirituality, or is the experience in the same vein as young ladies who swoon in the presence of rock stars? And then there is the question of whether special traits are necessarily an indication of special wisdom.
Our interest is not so much in explanations of the nature of these phenomena, but in how they are used by those who claim to do them. The reality and source of magical events can be endlessly debated. What can be easily seen, however, is whether they are being used to gain dominance, bolster credibility in other areas, make people worshipful, and create a context where the “miracle worker” becomes an unchallengeable authority. When magic lies at the base of authority, no matter how elevated the people appear, they are engaged in perhaps the oldest ploy of authoritarian mind control.
Whenever powers are utilized as credentials to disarm reason and make people blind followers, there is little wisdom there. The idea that wisdom is justified by magical ability is even questioned within traditional Eastern thought. Trying to cultivate or being enthralled with special powers is considered one of the great dangers of the spiritual path. The major use of the miraculous has been to impress. For us the real mystery is why people display their purported powers in so many irrelevant or even trivial ways. . . . . Bottom line, those who use anything seemingly out of the ordinary to get others to bow down to them should be held suspect.
The guru’s specialness is presented as the result of many lifetimes of purification. So it is tacitly implied that one’s advancement can never approach the guru’s exalted state “at least not in this lifetime. It is far easier to surrender to a projection of perfection than to someone who is essentially like you. Thus gurus routinely take on images that people have been conditioned to associate with divinity: all-wise, all-good, all-powerful, or some approximation thereof. They all claim to be able to lead people to salvation, enlightenment, bliss, self-knowledge, immortality, peace, an end to sorrow, and ultimately being one with God. These states are conveniently as difficult to reach as they are compelling. Gurus also claim to bestow unconditional love [or at least “sorcerer’s affection”] on those who surrender to them, while actually whatever emotional connection exists is conditional on surrender and obedience. They cultivate images that cater to the disciples’ preconceived ideas of spirituality as selfless purity. In short, gurus basically tell disciples what they want to hear, including how special and wise they are for surrendering to them.
The deceit underlying most ploys is that the guru has no self-interest at all. The traditional ideal of enlightenment allows this deceit free reign because the guru is placed in a category beyond the knowledge and judgment of others. From here gurus can rationalize any contradictory behavior. The traditional idea that once enlightened, one can do anything is also attractive to disciples who secretly hope this is where their sacrifices will eventually lead them.”
To be thought enlightened, one must appear not only certain that one is, but certain about most everything else, too. Certainty in areas where others are uncertain and have strong desires automatically sets up the guru’s dominance. . . . . In addition, to get followers what is needed is a message promising desires will be realized, and facility in handling people’s challenges and confusions. . . . . Problems arising from individuated life can be made to appear trivial, and a sign that the questioner has serious “ego problems.” Deflecting everything back to others” lacks is a simple, age-old ploy of anyone in a position of unchallengeability.
Another related ploy is placing high value on detachment . . . . The message is “You can’t become enlightened if you’re stuck on the material plane with attachments.” To be attached is presented as being ego-bound. Preaching renunciation and self-sacrifice is by definition authoritarian “it means an authority telling you what you’re supposed to renounce. If a person buys this ideology, then detaching from possessions, relationships, and even one’s identity can at first make one feel better because they are the usual sources of psychological pain.
Taking on beliefs because they alleviate conflict is part of the unconscious code underlying authoritarian control.” Pp. 66-71.
“Surrendering to a guru brings instant intimacy with all who share the same values. In a world where traditional values are crumbling, bringing brittle, hedonistic ways of relating, many feel alone and disconnected. Acceptance by and identification with the group induce a loosening of personal boundaries. This opening consequently increases the emotional content of one’s life, bringing purpose, meaning, and hope. It is no wonder that those who join such groups rave about how much better they feel than previously. But this quick, one-dimensional bonding is based solely upon a shared ideology. No matter how intense and secure it feels, should one leave the fold, it evaporates as quickly as it formed.
Surrender is the glue that binds guru and disciple. Being a disciple offers the closest approximation (outside of mental institutions) to the special configuration of infancy. Surrender is a route that enables disciples to experience again, at least partially, the conflict-free innocence that is the source of their atavistic longings. . . . .
This dependent state satisfies other longings that stem from infancy. Once again, one experiences being at the center of the universe “if not directly (the guru occupies that space), at least closer to the center than one could have thought possible. The guru also puts out the image of the totally accepting parent “the parent one never had but always wanted. So disciples believe they are loved unconditionally, even though this love is conditional on continued surrender. Disciples in the throes of surrender feel they have given up their past, and do not, consciously at least, fear the future. In addition, they feel more powerful through believing that the guru and the group are destined to greatly influence the world. Feeling totally cared for and accepted, at the universe’s center, powerful, and seemingly unafraid of the future are all achieved at the price of giving one’s power to another, thus remaining essentially a child.
Surrendering to an authority who dictates what’s right is a quick, mechanical route to feeling more virtuous. It is a fast track for taking on a moral system and to some extent following it. But more, that act of surrender itself can feel like giving up or at least diminishing one’s ego, which is presented as a sign of spiritual progress. All renunciate moral systems have as prime virtues selflessness and obedience to some higher authority. If confused or in conflict, conforming to programming can make one feel immediately better. Obedience itself can feel selfless. . . . .No matter how much better one initially feels, anything that undermines self-trust in the long run is detrimental to becoming an adult.
Disciples usually become more attached to the psychological state that surrender brings than to the guru, whom they never really get to know as a person. Repudiation of the guru (or even doubt and questioning) means a return to earlier conflict, confusion, and meaninglessness. The deeper they surrender, and the more energy and commitment they put into the guru, the greater their emotional investment is. Disciples will thus put up with a great deal of contradictory and aberrant behavior on the guru’s part, for doubting him literally means having their world fall apart.
This is why many who are involved in authoritarian surrender adamantly deny they are. Those who see the dissembling in other gurus or leaders can find countless ways to believe that their guru is different. It is not at all unusual to be in an authoritarian relationship and not know it. In fact, knowing it can interfere with surrender. Any of the following are strong indications of belonging to an authoritarian group:
1. No deviation from the party line is allowed. Anyone who has thoughts or feelings contrary to the accepted perspective is made to feel wrong or bad for having them. [E.g., the insincere suggestions that, “You really should drop your senseless anger and find another, different path with a heart.”]
2. Whatever the authority does is regarded as perfect or right. Thus behaviors that would be questioned in others are made to seem different and proper.
3. One trusts the leader or others in the group to know what’s best.
4. It is difficult to communicate with anyone not in the group.
5. One finds oneself defending actions of the leader (or other members) without having firsthand knowledge of what occurred. [E.g., one of the more thoughtful Tigre posters dismissed as irrelevant the Sustained Action information, claming that he would “follow Martin Bormann” if the deceased Nazi propagandist had come up with something as “useful” as Tensegrity.]
6. At times one is confused and fearful without knowing why. This is a sign that doubts are being repressed.
The age-old inquiry that asks “Who am I?” looks inside for self-discovery. The process of digging deeper into oneself reveals there are self-images constructed out of the past that are part of one’s identity. The true meaning of spiritual surrender involves letting go of self-defining images that limit who one is and can be. Within this inner inquiry one also comes to realize that one is part of a larger context. Surrendering to those who present themselves as a better or more real representative of that larger context perverts the true beauty and meaning of surrender. On the contrary, surrendering to another as the gateway to salvation keeps people dependent, childish, and living second-handedly. Surrender as an adult encompasses realizing that all of us are an interwoven part of a larger process that both creates and is created by its components. This involves being able both to control life and to surrender to what life offers. It does not involve giving up one’s power or identity.
The only way any living system works well is to have information flowing freely between its parts and its environment. This is particularly essential with human beings, in order to counteract the inbuilt nature of subjectivity and the biasing filters of self-interest. The guru/disciple relationship, which is inherently authoritarian, cuts off the necessary flow of information for both, creating a feedback-proof system. If any degree of objectivity can ever be obtained, it is only through open minds that change with changing information.
The thoughts in this book could always be written off as unspiritual, egotistical, and coming from a lower plane of understanding. Ultimately there is no way to prove whose perspective is more accurate. What can be shown, however, is whether the process involved in establishing a given worldview is authoritarian, and what the implications of this process are. The tragedy that all authoritarian structures breed, particularly so-called spiritual ones, comes from giving absolute priority to another’s viewpoint. This involves mistakenly identifying as spiritual [or “sorceric”] the (usually temporary) conflict-free emotions and passions that come from surrendering to an authority. The tragedy is compounded in our times because our survival as a species depends upon adults coming to the fore who can break the shackles of old authority and tradition, creating new forms of relating to each other and to the planet we live on. In order to do this, we must use all we have: our bodies, our emotions, our minds, and all types of information from the world around us. Blind surrender to authority is an emotional indulgence and illusory security the species can no longer afford.” Pp. 55-59.
Theories of Early Childhood Development of the Prophetic Charismatic as put together by Corey Donovan. [email protected]
“He who has been the undisputed darling of his mother retains throughout life that victorious feeling, that confidence in ultimate success, which not seldom brings actual success with it” – Sigmund Freud, A Childhood Recollection from Dictung und Wahrheit.
How much can we say”really”about the inner life of another person? Some things we may safely assume; for example, that John felt hurt when Mary rejected him. But when we try to explain more complex behaviors such as leadership, we are much more speculative. It is possible, of course, by drawing on different sources and with the benefit of hindsight, to suggest credible reasons why Joan became a leader and Bill a follower, why Anne became an artist and Bruce a criminal. But to spell out, in a step-by-step way, all the processes and events that led up to the adoption of a particular role is, it must be frankly admitted, impossible, given the present state of our knowledge. Some heroic efforts to do this have been made, but an irreducible ambiguity remains (Runyon 1984). There is always some part of a person that cannot be known, no matter how hard we try. That is their dignity, and our humility.
The theories used herein come from depth psychology and the social sciences. Both stress the early life of the child as crucially formative for later development (Conger and Kanungo 1988). The theory to be advanced herein begins with Heinz Kohut’s work on the narcissistic personality, and then describes how such a person may become a focus for charismatic affections in others. The two key questions are Why would anyone become a prophet? How does one do so?
In Kohut’s theory, the mother acts as a filter between the developing child and the external world, so that the period of primary narcissism is extended far beyond its usual time and becomes deepened and crystallized within the child’s mind as his or her basic view of life. The mother protects the child in such a way that the full significance of external reality is not recognized by the child. This is achieved by her devotion to, and support of, the child (mirroring, pacing, modeling and so on), which is extended throughout the child’s infancy and into later life. Kohut speculates that at some point in the later stages of this relationship there is a failure of rapport by the mother. In order to defend himself against the painful discovery that the world does not exist for him alone, the child may protect himself by incorporating the mother’s filter mechanisms into his self. Thus the child retains the illusion of oneness with the mother and deals with the world in a way similar to hers.
Several points need to be emphasized about this scenario. First, although in perhaps a majority of cases it is the nurturing role of the mother that prepares the ground for subsequent development, there is no intrinsic reason why this should be so. In the case of Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh (described below) his grandfather was his primary love attachment. When considering this theory, we must remain aware that it is the child’s constructed inner parent, the “self-object” derived from the relationship with an actual carer, that is crucial in narcissistic development.
Second, such a child has experienced a history of “baby worship” (Kohut 1971, 124), with all the heightened self-esteem and background of security that go along with it. Hence this is already a very secure, robust child. This corresponds with the facts of charismatic leaders; they seem to be fundamentally strong and secure people, their self confidence impresses one as real, not mere bombast. The leaders in this study were not mere actors; they were men and women who probably could have succeeded at almost anything they tried (including acting as impressive figures). Prophets are not weak people. For an infamous example consider Jim Jones, who, in his last days in Guyana, despite being sick with fever, unable to stand, and incoherent much of the time, nevertheless still inspired love, fear, and loyalty among his followers (Reiterman and Jacobs 1982).
Further, the failure of rapport by the carer is not the failure of an “optimally failing parent” (Kohut 1977, 237) who ushers in maturity in an age-appropriate manner. The failure is delayed long past the time when such failures would usually occur, and comes at a time ”perhaps the crucial time “when the worldview of the child is crystallizing in important ways. Hence the failure of rapport is not the optimal failure that is necessary for the healthy development of a realistic worldview. Rather, it is a delayed failure that occurs when the child is much stronger and more advanced in terms of ego development. Such a child may be able to cope with this failure in some way that denies or diminishes a full recognition of the reality of the universe, allowing the child to cling to an egocentric view of the world.
Furthermore, although the failure of rapport is delayed, the child’s attempted solution to this problem when it does occur is extremely precocious, for it involves taking over the mature guidance strategies of the carer and incorporating them into the childish ego. This may seem like an impossible task, but we are dealing with an extraordinary child. Further, the carer’s failure of rapport need not be total; it may occur initially only for brief periods, partially, and in a generally supportive environment. If successful (and it is a big if; Kohut’s patients were mostly failed attempts), the child becomes an odd mixture of the immature and the premature, the infantile and the parental. This unusual blend of diverse elements of adjustment is typical of many prophets who are said to combine childlike innocence with ageless wisdom.
In order to adapt in this manner, the child will need unusual natural endowment, an extraordinary talent of some kind, or great native intelligence. For what the child is attempting to do is to live in a belief system that is fundamentally at odds with how the world is; that is, to retain an egocentric worldview in the face of an indifferent universe. The tension thus created probably would defeat most people (it creates problems for the prophet throughout his life), but perhaps, for an exceptional child, it may just be possible.
Last, in incorporating into his personality some of the carer’s parental strategies, the child identifies with the self-object in a particularly intimate way, and this in a relationship that already has indistinct boundaries. It is appropriate to speak of “oneness” here and to examine the benefits derived by the child. In a series of studies, Lloyd Silverman and others have argued that unconscious fantasies of fusion with the mother can enhance performance and adaptation (provided that certain other conditions exist that we need not discuss here; Silverman, Lachmann, and Milich 1982, 1). Silverman claimed to have demonstrated this in research subjects through successful psychotherapy outcomes, improved performance in exams, and increased self-esteem and personal security (Silverman and Weinberger 1988; Balay and Shevrin 1988). The narcissistic development described above involves just such a fantasy of oneness, as large chunks of the parental behavioral repertoire are internalized as parts of the self. The benefit should be to boost the child’s already burgeoning self-esteem to grandiose levels, and this is what we find among charismatic leaders. [Footnote omitted.]
But what is the nature of the “unpredictable failure of rapport” that, Kohut argues, turns the developmental stream toward grandiose narcissism? Kohut’s theory provides a credible account of how the child develops a mix of behavioral repertoires and experiential categories characteristic of charismatic leaders. But his theory also veers toward “eventism”; that is, the kind of “primal scene” theory that emphasizes a single event or series of events as determining all subsequent developments (Runyon 1984). It is, of course, entirely possible that some such imprinting is involved in the growth of charismatic personalities, but if the nature of the early carer-child relationship is explored further, it reveals other possibilities that enable us to avoid the postulate of a single determining event.
To begin with, the primary caregiver’s baby worship is in effect the creation and daily re-creation of a god “the sacred infant. Typically, a mother invests her ultimate concerns in her child, who becomes the main source of her feelings of self-worth. The child’s behaviors and worldview become more and more”divine”, that is, magnificent, grandiose, and aloof. The challenge for the child in later life is to adapt these behaviors and worldview to a less indulgent audience.
This much of the theory is straightforward; cases of unhealthy over-identification by devoted mothers, of the Jocasta complex and similar neuroses, and of “son-and-heir” idealizing by emotionally blunted fathers are well known (Olden 1958; Chaplin 1968, 257). Further, there are well-documented accounts of such relationships in the lives of some charismatic leaders, for example, Adolf Hitler and Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh (Waite 1977; Gordon 1987). In addition, several of the leaders in this study agreed that their early relationships with their primary caregivers had been especially close and idyllic, as far as they could remember. However, the motive for such involvement is probably some kind of insecurity. A mother’s long-term self-sacrificial devotion to her child at the expense of other attachments and investments suggests some kind of compensation for deficits that we can only guess at (and that are probably different in each case). It seems unlikely that a mother who had the opportunity to nourish her self-esteem from more usual creative outlets, such as other family relationships, work, and leisure activities, would involve herself so totally in the development of a child. We do not need to know quite what drives her to do so, but we can assume that such mothers give their children a double message. On the one hand there is the totally involved, attentive, patient, supportive, mirroring and pacing that exists on the surface and that the child mostly sees. But beneath this loving exterior we can expect the child sooner or later (and it may take some time) to glimpse something of the mother’s insecurities.
This is most likely to happen at those moments when the child falls out of role, that is, when he departs markedly from the pattern of interactions most satisfying to the carer. This is unlikely to occur in the first few years because of the predictability and simplicity of the baby’s needs. But as the child becomes more complex and autonomous, its psychic fusion with the primary caregiver and the synchrony of their behaviors come under increasing strain. At such times several things may happen. Some children may prefer to stay within the warm glow of the mother’s smile rather than risk provoking her anxieties. Others may enjoy disturbing her. But what is common to most possibilities is the sense that the child faces a clear choice between, on the one hand, infant-godlike behaviors that elicit the mother’s love and, on the other hand, ungodly behavior that elicits the mother’s insecurities. Given that there has been a long history of oneness between them, the child probably will not understand the nature of the mother’s newly exposed insecurity (which she has taken great pains to hide or deny). Rather, the most salient experience that the child has at such moments is of the loss of fusion, the “fall from grace” into jarring, anxious interaction. Seen from the child’s position, the experience is primarily of the loss of mother love. The reason for this loss “the carer’s underlying insecurity “ is unlikely to be seen or understood.
Hence the child receives a double message, albeit not consciously and never in words. The baby worship aspect of the relationship may be characterized by the phrase ”Mommy and I are one” (from Silverman’s research), but the times of loss of rapport may be felt as “Mommy will not love me unless I am God.” [Footnote: The statements “Mommy and I are one” and “Mommy will not love me unless I am God” may appear to be typical of the wild oversimplifications of some ill-conceived psychoanalytic thought (Frosh 1989, 6). Such formulations are convenient descriptive devices, useful for translating descriptions of subtle and complex psychological states into easily understood terms. . . . . The aim of such phrases is to expose the unconscious significance of complex behaviors and to indicate issues that “especially in clinical work “ need to be examined in order to understand the underlying motivations influencing these behaviors.] Note that it is not the mere occurrence of the failure of rapport that is important, but how it is construed by the child, typically as unconscious fantasies about its relationship with the mother or other self-object. Of course there may well be children whose responses to such problems are quite different from the line proposed here, but they will, it seems, be less likely to become charismatic leaders.
There are two things to notice about these messages. First, “Mommy will not love me unless I am God” may act as a limit on “Mommy and I are one” tending to lock in place the godly role. For God does not question His own behavior or motives, the more so if to do this is to risk losing Mommy’s love. Hence the role of adored and worshipped god may become rigidly crystallized in the mind of the child as the prototype for all subsequent relationships; to question or momentarily suspend the role is to expose the most terrifying conflict any child can face: rejection by the mother (or other primary love attachment).
Second, the fantasy “Mommy will not love me unless I am God” is very likely to produce hostility toward the mother and, in later life, toward the world. The charismatic leader is “opposed to all rules of morality” (Weber 1946), and this opposition is likely to be rooted in an early hostility toward the mother, made clearer if we alter the phrase slightly to “Only being God is good enough for Mommy” (or “I must be God for Mommy”), plainly an impossible demand. Hence, despite the prophet’s later claim to speak for a loving God, this element of hostility may pervade all his relationships, particularly with those who follow and worship him.