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Below is an edited excerpt from Chapter 22 of Robert Jay Lifton's book,"Thought Reform and the Psychology of Totalism: A Study of 'Brainwashing' in China." Lifton, a psychiatrist and distinguished professor at the City University of New York, has studied the psychology of extremism for decades. He testified at the 1976 bank robbery trial of Patty Hearst about the theory of "coercive persuasion." First published in 1961, his book was reprinted in 1989 by the University of North Carolina Press. Scroll down to the read the chapter. |
Chapter 22: Ideological Totalism
Milieu Control |
These criteria consist of eight psychological themes which are
predominant within the social field of the thought reform milieu.
Each has a totalistic quality; each depend upon an equally absolute
philosophical assumption; and each mobilizes certain individual
emotional tendencies, mostly of a polarizing nature. In combination
they create an atmosphere which may temporarily energize or exhilarate,
but which at the same time poses the gravest of human threats.
Such milieu control never succeeds in becoming absolute, and its
own human apparatus can - when permeated by outside information
- become subject to discordant "noise" beyond that of
any mechanical apparatus. To totalist administrators, however,
such occurrences are no more than evidences of "incorrect"
use of the apparatus. For they look upon milieu control as a
just and necessary policy, one which need not be kept secret:
thought reform participants may be in doubt as to who is telling
what to whom,
but the fact that extensive information about everyone is being
conveyed to the authorities is always known. At the center of this
self-justification is their assumption of omniscience, their
conviction that reality is their exclusive possession. Having
experienced the impact of what they consider to be an
ultimate truth (and having the need to dispel any possible inner
doubts of their own), they consider it their duty to create an
environment containing no more and no less than this "truth."
In order to be the engineers of the human soul, they must first
bring it under full observational control.
Ideological totalists do not pursue this approach solely
for the purpose of maintaining a sense of power over others.
Rather they are impelled by a special kind of mystique which
not only justifies such manipulations, but makes them mandatory.
Included in this mystique is a sense of "higher purpose,"
of having "directly perceived some imminent law of social
development," and of being themselves the vanguard of this
development. By thus becoming the instruments of their own mystique,
they create a mystical aura around the manipulating institutions
- the Party, the Government, the Organization. They are the agents
"chosen" (by history, by God, or by some other supernatural
force) to carry out the "mystical imperative," the pursuit
of which must supersede all considerations of decency or of immediate
human welfare. Similarly, any thought or action which questions
the higher purpose is considered to be stimulated by a lower purpose,
to be backward, selfish, and petty in the face of the great, overriding
mission. This same mystical imperative produces the apparent
extremes of idealism and cynicism which occur in connection with
the manipulations of any totalist environment: even those actions
which seem cynical in the extreme can be seen as having ultimate
relationship to the "higher purpose."
At the level of the individual person, the psychological responses
to this manipulative approach revolve about the basic polarity
of trust and mistrust. One is asked to accept these manipulations
on a basis of ultimate trust (or faith): "like a child in
the arms of its mother." He who trusts in this degree can
experience the manipulations within the idiom of the mystique
behind them: that is, he may welcome their mysteriousness, find
pleasure in their pain, and feel them to be necessary for the
fulfillment of the "higher purpose" which he endorses
as his own. But such elemental trust is difficult to maintain;
and even the strongest can be dissipated by constant manipulation.
When trust gives way to mistrust (or when trust has never existed)
the higher purpose cannot serve as adequate emotional sustenance.
The individual then responds to the manipulations through developing
what I shall call the psychology of the pawn. Feeling
himself unable to escape from forces more powerful than himself,
he subordinates everything to adapting himself to them. He becomes
sensitive to all kinds of cues, expert at anticipating environmental
pressures, and skillful in riding them in such a way that his
psychological energies merge with the tide rather than turn painfully
against himself. This requires that he participate actively in
the manipulation of others, as well as in the endless round of
betrayals and self-betrayals which are required.
But whatever his response - whether he is cheerful in the face
of being manipulated, deeply resentful, or feels a combination
of both - he has been deprived of the opportunity to exercise
his capacities for self-expression and independent action.
The philosophical assumption underlying this demand is that absolute
purity is attainable, and that anything done to anyone in the
name of this purity is ultimately moral. In actual practice,
however, no one is really expected to achieve such perfection.
Nor can this paradox be dismissed as merely a means of establishing
a high standard to which all can aspire. Thought reform bears
witness to its more malignant consequences: for by defining and
manipulating the criteria of purity, and then by conducting an
all-out war upon impurity, the ideological totalists create a
narrow world of guilt and shame. This is perpetuated by an ethos
of continuous reform, a demand that one strive permanently and
painfully for something which not only does not exist but is in
fact alien to the human condition.
At the level of the relationship between individual and environment,
the demand for purity creates what we may term a guilty milieu
and a shaming milieu. Since each man's impurities are
deemed sinful and potentially harmful to himself and to others,
he is, so to speak, expected to expect punishment - which results
in a relationship of guilt and his environment. Similarly, when
he fails to meet the prevailing standards in casting out such
impurities, he is expected to expect humiliation and ostracism
- thus establishing a relationship of shame with his milieu.
Moreover, the sense of guilt and the sense of shame become highly-valued:
they are preferred forms of communication, objects of public competition,
and the basis for eventual bonds between the individual and his
totalist accusers. One may attempt to simulate them for a while,
but the subterfuge is likely to be detected, and it is safer to
experience them genuinely.
People vary greatly in their susceptibilities to guilt and shame,
depending upon patterns developed early in life. But since guilt
and shame are basic to human existence, this variation can be
no more than a matter of degree. Each person is made vulnerable
through his profound inner sensitivities to his own limitations
and to his unfulfilled potential; in other words, each is made
vulnerable through his existential guilt. Since ideological totalists
become the ultimate judges of good and evil within their world,
they are able to use these universal tendencies toward guilt and
shame as emotional levers for their controlling and manipulative
influences. They become the arbiters of existential guilt, authorities
without limit in dealing with others' limitations. And their
power is nowhere more evident than in their capacity to "forgive."
The individual thus comes to apply the same totalist polarization
of good and evil to his judgments of his own character: he tends
to imbue certain aspects of himself with excessive virtue, and
condemn even more excessively other personal qualities - all according
to their ideological standing. He must also look upon his impurities
as originating from outside influences - that is, from the ever-threatening
world beyond the closed, totalist ken. Therefore, one of his
best way to relieve himself of some of his burden of guilt is
to denounce, continuously and hostilely, these same outside influences.
The more guilty he feels, the greater his hatred, and the more
threatening they seem. In this manner, the universal psychological
tendency toward "projection" is nourished and institutionalized,
leading to mass hatreds, purges of heretics, and to political
and religious holy wars. Moreover, once an individual person
has experienced the totalist polarization of good and evil, he
has great difficulty in regaining a more balanced inner sensitivity
to the complexities of human morality. For these is no emotional
bondage greater than that of the man whose entire guilt potential
- neurotic and existential - has become the property of ideological
totalists.
The totalist confession takes on a number of special meanings.
It is first a vehicle for the kind of personal purification which
we have just discussed, a means of maintaining a perpetual inner
emptying or psychological purge of impurity; this purging milieu
enhances the totalists' hold upon existential guilt. Second,
it is an act of symbolic self-surrender, the expression of the
merging of individual and environment. Third, it is a means of
maintaining an ethos of total exposure - a policy of making public
(or at least known to the Organization) everything possible about
the life experiences, thoughts, and passions of each individual,
and especially those elements which might be regarded as derogatory.
The assumption underlying total exposure (besides those which
relate to the demand for purity) is the environment's claim to
total ownership of each individual self within it. Private ownership
of the mind and its products - of imagination or of memory - becomes
highly immoral. The accompanying rationale (or rationalization)
is familiar, the milieu has attained such a perfect state of enlightenment
that any individual retention of ideas or emotions has become
anachronistic.
The cult of confession can offer the individual person meaningful
psychological satisfactions in the continuing opportunity for
emotional catharsis and for relief of suppressed guilt feelings,
especially insofar as these are associated with self-punitive
tendencies to get pleasure from personal degradation. More than
this, the sharing of confession enthusiasms can create an orgiastic
sense of "oneness," of the most intense intimacy with
fellow confessors and of the dissolution of self into the great
flow of the Movement. And there is also, at least initially, the
possibility of genuine self-revelation and of self-betterment
through the recognition that "the thing that has been exposed
is what I am."
But as totalist pressures turn confession into recurrent command
performances, the element of histrionic public display takes precedence
over genuine inner experience. Each man becomes concerned with
the effectiveness of his personal performance, and this performance
sometimes comes to serve the function of evading the very emotions
and ideas about which one feels most guilty - confirming the statement
by one of Camus' characters that "authors of confessions
write especially to avoid confessing, to tell nothing of what
they know." The difficulty, of course, lies in the inevitable
confusion which takes place between the actor's method and his
separate personal reality, between the performer and the "real
me."
In this sense, the cult of confession has effects quite the reverse
of its ideal of total exposure: rather than eliminating personal
secrets, it increases and intensifies them. In any situation
the personal secret has two important elements: first, guilty
and shameful ideas which one wishes to suppress in order to prevent
their becoming known by others or their becoming too prominent
in one's own awareness; and second, representations of parts of
oneself too precious to be expressed except when alone or when
involved in special loving relationships formed around this shared
secret world. Personal secrets are always maintained in opposition
to inner pressures toward self-exposure. The totalist milieu
makes contact with these inner pressures through its own obsession
with the expose and the unmasking process. As a result old secrets
are revived and new ones proliferate; the latter frequently consist
of resentments toward or doubts about the Movement, or else are
related to aspects of identity still existing outside of the prescribed
ideological sphere. Each person becomes caught up in a continuous
conflict over which secrets to preserve and which to surrender,
over ways to reveal lesser secrets in order to protect more important
ones; his own boundaries between the secret and the known, between
the public and the private, become blurred. And around one secret,
or a complex of secrets, there may revolve
an ultimate inner struggle between resistance and self-surrender.
Finally, the cult of confession makes it virtually impossible
to attain a reasonable balance between worth and humility. The
enthusiastic and aggressive confessor becomes like Camus' character
whose perpetual confession is his means of judging others: "[I]
practice
the profession of penitent to be able to end up as a judge
the
more I accuse myself, the more I have a right to judge you."
The identity of the "judge-penitent" thus becomes a
vehicle for taking on some of the environment's arrogance and
sense of omnipotence. Yet even this shared omnipotence cannot
protect him from the opposite (but not unrelated) feelings of
humiliation and weakness, feelings especially prevalent among
those who remain more the enforced penitent than the all-powerful
judge.
The assumption here is not so much that man can be God, but rather
that man's ideas can be God: that an absolute science
of ideas (and implicitly, an absolute science of man) exists,
or is at least very close to being attained; that this science
can be combined with an equally absolute body of moral principles;
and that the resulting doctrine is true for all men at all times.
Although no ideology goes quite this far in overt statement,
such assumptions are implicit in totalist practice.
At the level of the individual, the totalist sacred science can
offer much comfort and security. Its appeal lies in its seeming
unification of the mystical and the logical modes of experience
(in psychoanalytic terms, of the primary and secondary thought
processes). For within the framework of the sacred science, and
sweeping, non-rational "insights." Since the distinction
between the logical and the mystical is, to begin with, artificial
and man-made, an opportunity for transcending it can create an
extremely intense feeling of truth. But the posture of unquestioning
faith - both rationally and non-rationally derived - is not easy
to sustain, especially if one discovers that the world of experience
is not nearly as absolute as the sacred science claims it to be.
Yet so strong a hold can the sacred science achieve over his mental
processes that if one begins to feel himself attracted to ideas
which either contradict or ignore it, he may become guilty and
afraid. His quest for knowledge is consequently hampered, since
in the name of science he is prevented from engaging in the receptive
search for truth which characterizes the genuinely scientific
approach. And his position is made more difficult by the absence,
in a totalist environment, of any distinction between the sacred
and the profane: there is no thought or action which cannot be
related to the sacred science. To be sure, one can usually find
areas of experience outside its immediate authority; but during
periods of maximum totalist activity (like thought reform) any
such areas are cut off, and there is virtually no escape from
the milieu's ever-pressing edicts and demands. Whatever combination
of continued adherence, inner resistance, or compromise co-existence
the individual person adopts toward this blend of counterfeit
science and back-door religion, it represents another continuous
pressure toward personal closure, toward avoiding, rather than
grappling with, the kinds of knowledge and experience necessary
for genuine self-expression and for creative development.
To be sure, this kind of language exists to some degree within
any cultural or organizational group, and all systems of belief
depend upon it. It is in part an expression of unity and exclusiveness:
as Edward Sapir put it, "'He talks like us' is equivalent
to saying 'He is one of us.'" The loading is much more extreme
in ideological totalism, however, since the jargon expresses the
claimed certitudes of the sacred science. Also involved is an
underlying assumption that language - like all other human products
- can be owned and operated by the Movement. No compunctions
are felt about manipulating or loading it in any fashion; the
only consideration is its usefulness to the cause.
For an individual person, the effect of the language of ideological
totalism can be summed up in one word: constriction. He is, so
to speak, linguistically deprived; and since language is so central
to all human experience, his capacities for thinking and feeling
are immensely narrowed. This is what Hu meant when he said, "using
the same pattern of words for so long
you feel chained."
Actually, not everyone exposed feels chained, but in effect
everyone is profoundly confined by these verbal fetters.
As in other aspects of totalism, this loading may provide an
initial sense of insight and security, eventually followed by
uneasiness. This uneasiness may result in a retreat into a rigid
orthodoxy in which an individual shouts the ideological jargon
all the louder in order to demonstrate his conformity, hide his
own dilemma and his despair, and protect himself from the fear
and guilt he would feel should he attempt to use words and phrases
other than the correct ones. Or else he may adapt a complex pattern
of inner division, and dutifully produce the expected cliché's
in public performances while in his private moments he searches
for more meaningful avenues of expression. Either way, his imagination
becomes increasingly dissociated from his actual life experiences
and may tend to atrophy from disuse.
The inspiriting force of such myths cannot be denied; nor can
one ignore their capacity for mischief. For when the myth becomes
fused with the totalist sacred science, the resulting "logic"
can be so compelling and coercive that it simply replaces the
realities of individual experience. Consequently, past historical
events are retrospectively altered, wholly rewritten, or ignored,
to make them consistent with the doctrinal logic. This alteration
becomes especially malignant when its distortions are imposed
upon individual memory as occurred in the false confession extracted
during thought reform.
The same doctrinal primacy prevails in the totalist approach to
changing people: the demand that character and identity be reshaped,
not in accordance with one's special nature or potentialities,
but rather to fit the rigid contours of the doctrinal mold. The
human is thus subjected to the ahuman. And in this manner, the
totalists, as Camus phrases it, "put an abstract idea above
human life, even if they call it history, to which they themselves
have submitted in advance and to which they will decide arbitrarily,
to submit everyone else as well."
The underlying assumption is that the doctrine - including its
mythological elements - is ultimately more valid, true, and real
than is any aspect of actual human character or human experience.
Thus, even when circumstances require that a totalist movement
follow a course of action in conflict with or outside of the doctrine,
there exists what Benjamin Schwartz described as a "will
to orthodoxy" which requires an elaborate facade of new rationalizations
designed to demonstrate the unerring consistency of the doctrine
and the unfailing foresight which it provides. But its greater
importance lies in more hidden manifestations, particularly the
totalists' pattern of imposing their doctrine-dominated remolding
upon people in order to seek confirmation of (and again, dispel
their own doubts about) this same doctrine. Rather than modify
the myth in accordance with experience, the will to orthodoxy
requires instead that men be modified in order to reaffirm the
myth.
The individual person who finds himself under such doctrine-dominated
pressure to change is thrust into an intense struggle with his
own sense of integrity, a struggle which takes place in relation
to polarized feelings of sincerity and insincerity. In a totalist
environment, absolute "sincerity" is demanded; and the
major criterion for sincerity is likely to be one's degree of
doctrinal compliance - both in regard to belief and to direction
of personal change. Yet there is always the possibility of retaining
an alternative version of sincerity (and of reality), the capacity
to imagine a different kind of existence and another form of sincere
commitment. These alternative visions depend upon such things
as the strength of previous identity, the penetration of the milieu
by outside ideas, and the retained capacity for eventual individual
renewal. The totalist environment, however, counters such "deviant"
tendencies with the accusation that they stem entirely from personal
"problems" ("thought problems" or "ideological
problems") derived from untoward earlier influences. The
outcome will depend largely upon how much genuine relevance the
doctrine has for the individual emotional predicament. And even
for those to whom it seems totally appealing, the exuberant sense
of well-being it temporarily affords may be more a "delusion
of wholeness" than an expression of true and lasting inner
harmony.
Are not men presumtuous to appoint themselves the dispensers of human
existence? Surely this is a flagrant expression of what the Greeks
called hubris, of arrogant man making himself God. Yet
one underlying assumption makes this arrogance mandatory: the
conviction that there is just one path to true existence, just
one valid mode of being, and that all others are perforce invalid
and false. Totalists thus feel themselves compelled to destroy
all possibilities of false existence as a means of furthering
the great plan of true existence to which they are committed.
For the individual, the polar emotional conflict is the ultimate
existential one of "being versus nothingness." He is
likely to be drawn to a conversion experience, which he sees as
the only means of attaining a path of existence for the future.
The totalist environment - even when it does not resort to physical
abuse - thus stimulates in everyone a fear of extinction or annihilation.
A person can overcome this fear and find (in martin Buber's term)
"confirmation," not in his individual relationships,
but only from the fount of all existence, the totalist Organization.
Existence comes to depend upon creed (I believe, therefore I
am), upon submission (I obey, therefore I am) and beyond these,
upon a sense of total merger with the ideological movement. Ultimately
of course one compromises and combines the totalist "confirmation"
with independent elements of personal identity; but one is ever
made aware that, should he stray too far along this "erroneous
path," his right to existence may be withdrawn.
The more clearly an environment expresses these eight psychological
themes, the greater its resemblance to ideological totalism; and
the more it utilizes such totalist devices to change people, the
greater its resemblance to thought reform. But facile comparisons
can be misleading. No milieu ever achieves complete totalism,
and many relatively moderate environments show some signs of it.
Moreover, totalism tends to be recurrent rather than continuous.
But if totalism has at any time been prominent in the movement,
there is always the possibility of its reappearance, even after
long periods of relative moderation.
Then, too, some environments come perilously close to totalism
but at the same time keep alternative paths open; this combination
can offer unusual opportunities for achieving intellectual and
emotional depth. And even the most full-blown totalist milieu
can provide (more or less despite itself) a valuable and enlarging
life experience - if the man exposed has both the opportunity
to leave the extreme environment and the inner capacity to absorb
and make inner use of the totalist pressures.
Also, ideological totalism itself may offer a man an intense peak
experience: a sense of transcending all that is ordinary and prosaic,
of freeing himself from the encumbrances of human ambivalence,
of entering a sphere of truth, reality, and sincerity beyond any
he had ever known or even imagined. But these peak experiences,
carry a great potential for rebound, and for equally intense opposition
to the very things which initially seem so liberating. Such imposed
peak experiences - as contrasted with those more freely and privately
arrived at by great religious leaders and mystics - are essentially
experiences of personal closure. Rather than stimulating greater
receptivity and "openness to the world," they encourage
a backward step into some form of "embeddedness" - a
retreat into doctrinal patterns more characteristic (at least
at this stage of human history) of the child than of the individuated
adult.
And if no peak experience occurs, ideological totalism does even
greater violence to the human potential: it evokes destructive
emotions, produces intellectual and psychological constrictions,
and deprives men of all that is most subtle and imaginative -
under the false promise of eliminating those very imperfections
and ambivalences which help to define the human condition. This
combination of personal closure, self-destructiveness, and hostility
toward outsiders leads to the dangerous group excesses so characteristic
of ideological totalism in any form. It also mobilizes extremist
tendencies in those outsiders under attack, thus creating a vicious
circle of totalism.
What is the source of ideological totalism? How do these extremist
emotional patterns originate? These questions raise the most
crucial and the most difficult of human problems. Behind ideological
totalism lies the ever-present human quest for the omnipotent
guide - for the supernatural force, political party, philosophical
ideas, great leader, or precise science - that will bring ultimate
solidarity to all men and eliminate the terror of death and nothingness.
This quest is evident in the mythologies, religions, and histories
of all nations, as well as in every individual life. The degree
of individual totalism involved depends greatly upon factors in
one's personal history: early lack of trust, extreme environmental
chaos, total domination by a parent or parent-representative,
intolerable burdens of guilt, and severe crises of identity.
Thus an early sense of confusion and dislocation, or an early
experience of unusually intense family milieu control, can produce
later a complete intolerance for confusion and dislocation, and
a longing for the reinstatement of milieu control. But these
things are in some measure part of every childhood experience;
and therefore the potential for totalism is a continuum from which
no one entirely escapes, and in relationship to which no two people
are exactly the same.
It may be that the capacity for totalism is most fundamentally
a product of human childhood itself, of the prolonged period of
helplessness and dependency through which each of us must pass.
Limited as he is, the infant has no choice but to imbue his first
nurturing authorities - his parents - with an exaggerated omnipotence,
until the time he is himself capable of some degree of independent
action and judgment. And even as he develops into the child and
the adolescent, he continues to require many of the all-or-none
polarities of totalism as terms with which to define his intellectual,
emotional, and moral worlds. Under favorable circumstances (that
is, when family and culture encourage individuation) these requirements
can be replaced by more flexible and moderate tendencies; but
they never entirely disappear.
During adult life, individual totalism takes on new contours as
it becomes associated with new ideological interests. It may
become part of the configuration of personal emotions, messianic
ideas, and organized mass movement which I have described as ideological
totalism. When it does, we cannot speak of it as simply as ideological
regression. It is partly this, but it is also something more:
a new form of adult embeddedness, originating in patterns of security-seeking
carried over from childhood, but with qualities of ideas and aspirations
that are specifically adult. During periods of cultural crisis
and of rapid historical change, the totalist quest for the omnipotent
guide leads men to seek to become that guide.
Totalism, then, is a widespread phenomenon, but it is not the
only approach to re-education. We can best use our knowledge
of it by applying its criteria to familiar processes in our own
cultural tradition and in our own country.