Humans are far from rational, yet it remains common in this day and age to believe otherwise. This is no doubt a consequence of the Western world’s post-enlightenment period, emphasizing the hard, cold facts of the natural sciences and expanding this unto all things human. But as Thomas Szasz once said so eloquently, the “objective is subjective.” This is especially relevant in an age where we speak of our feelings to be true (the premise of most romance movies incidentally), our thoughts to be rational and our beliefs to be well-founded in empirical observations. But we are limited in this regard, precisely because we are limited in our capacity to wholly evaluate any topic completely and without partisanship. Moreover, we are also limited by our own passions, insecurities and anxieties. In fact, a comprehensive reading of modern and post-modern psychology literature, beginning with Freud, significantly unearths the reality that all theories concerning human nature are in part, if not wholly, auto-biographical.
Freud is an illuminating example, not for any particular reason other than the fact that his life story is exceptionally well-documented. In the late 1890s, he wrote to Wilhelm Fliess (a friend with whom he shared his earliest conceptualizations of psychoanalysis, and other personal reflections) a fascinating letter. Following abysmal reviews from fellow psychiatrists regarding Freud’s earliest formulations of the psychosexual origins of neuroticism, Freud commented that their input was especially painful as he sought so deeply to be ‘eternally renown.’ Although other details of Freud’s life collaborate this stated intention, I am by no means singling out Freud or psychoanalysis for mischievous reasons; it just so happens that, as fate would have it, these thoughts were recorded and, incidentally, he did ultimately become one of the most influential figures in the development of modern psychology. But what drove Freud to seek immortal glory? Six hundred years prior to Freud’s birth, as referenced by Sherman Jackson, an Islamic scholar by the name of ibn Taymiyyah wrote that human beings have two powerful, hidden drives which must be overcome. The first, he wrote, is the drive to be worshipped and the second is to be obeyed. Both drives mutually constitute one another, reflecting a common theme found throughout history that mankind is essentially driven by his passion.
Freud is an illuminating example, not for any particular reason other than the fact that his life story is exceptionally well-documented. In the late 1890s, he wrote to Wilhelm Fliess (a friend with whom he shared his earliest conceptualizations of psychoanalysis, and other personal reflections) a fascinating letter. Following abysmal reviews from fellow psychiatrists regarding Freud’s earliest formulations of the psychosexual origins of neuroticism, Freud commented that their input was especially painful as he sought so deeply to be ‘eternally renown.’ Although other details of Freud’s life collaborate this stated intention, I am by no means singling out Freud or psychoanalysis for mischievous reasons; it just so happens that, as fate would have it, these thoughts were recorded and, incidentally, he did ultimately become one of the most influential figures in the development of modern psychology. But what drove Freud to seek immortal glory? Six hundred years prior to Freud’s birth, as referenced by Sherman Jackson, an Islamic scholar by the name of ibn Taymiyyah wrote that human beings have two powerful, hidden drives which must be overcome. The first, he wrote, is the drive to be worshipped and the second is to be obeyed. Both drives mutually constitute one another, reflecting a common theme found throughout history that mankind is essentially driven by his passion.
RSS Feed