Rebelliousness, Morality, and Psychological Health

The first and most obvious consideration in the relationship of rebelliousness to morality and psychological health is one which by now has passed from iconoclastic protest to virtual stereotype. Nonetheless, it should not be disregarded. It is simply this: rebellionresistance to acculturation, refusal to "adjust," adamant insistence on the importance of the self and of individuality--is very often the mark of a healthy character. If the rules deprive you of some part of yourself, then it is better to be unruly. The socially disapproved expression of this is delinquency, and most delinquency certainly is just plain confusion or blind and harmful striking out at the wrong enemy; but some delinquency has affirmation behind it, and we should not be too hasty in giving a bad name to what gives us a bad time. The great givers to humanity often have proud refusal in their souls, and they are aroused to wrath at the shoddy, the meretricious, and the unjust, which society seems to produce in appalling volume. Society is tough in its way, and it's no wonder that those who fight it tooth and nail are "tough guys," I think that much of the research and of the social action in relation to delinquency would be wiser if it recognized the potential value of the wayward characters who make its business for it. A person who is neither shy nor rebellious in his youth is not likely to be worth a farthing to himself nor to anyone else in the years of his physical maturity.

A second consideration which is certainly no news to most people, but which tends to get lost to psychologists who use phrases like guilt feelings, hostility, and anxiety, is that the healthy person psychologically is usually virtuous in the simple moral sense of the term. Psychologically healthy people do what they think is right, and what they think is right is that people should not lie to one another or to themselves, that they should not steal, slander, persecute, intrude, do damage willfully, go back on their word, fail a friend, or do any of the things that put them on the side of death as against life. This probably sounds like old-time religion, and in fact I am willing to be straightforwardly theological about this. I think there is an objective character to guilt, and when a person is false to his nature or offends against the nature of others then he is in sin and the place in which he has his existence is well described by the word "hell." I take "sin" here to be descriptive of the state of separation from the most basic sense of selfhood, or what some existentialist philosophers have called "the grounds of being." In whatever terms it is put, the fact is that a person is most alive and is functioning in such a way that he knows who he is and you know who he is and he knows who you are when his thoughts and actions are in accord with his moral judgment. The corollary is that when you do what you think is wrong you get a feeling of being dead, and if you are steeped in such wrongful ways you feel very dead all the time, and other people know that you are dead. There is such a thing as the death of the spirit. Many of the people whom we know as patients in our mental hospitals or as prisoners in our jails are in a condition of spiritual death, and their only hope is that someone can reach out to them, break through the walls of their isolation, recognize them. I think that too much has been made of the word love in this connection, for usually it connotes a feeling on the part of the person who is to give the love. The essence of the act of love as I understand it is the act of attention, and the affect that accompanies it in the person who is paying attention may be love, hate, sadness, or what have you. A real fight is an act of attention, a genuine condemnation is an act of attention, an understanding of final defeat is an act of attention. These as well as their positive counterparts are on the side of life, and the person who experiences them is in communication with other living beings and offers to them the possibility of community. The sort of philosophy of psychotherapy that prescribes blandness, nonjudgmentalness, and essential indifference on the part of the psychotherapist is simply a form of human debasement. Paying attention, caring, and being there yourself is all that counts.

One of the therapists there was clearly an incompetent by all standarts. Everything he did was wrong. After about six months of his residency, however, it became apparent that many of his patients were unaccountably getting better. Among his aberrant behaviors were such gross actions as telephoning a patient's foreman at work and telling him to stop bullying the patient, suggesting an unusual sexual technique to another patient whose wife was apparently frigid, and bluntly suggesting to a third patient that he should give up his job as an automobile repairman and get into the dispensing of food. The climax of the latter case was especially gruesome to the clinic, for the patient opened a doughnut shop of his own and on his final appointmerit appeared with a dozen doughnuts of his own making which he presented as a gift to the therapist, who without any insight at all offered them around to various other therapists and his supervisor of whom had difficulty, swallowing them. Goodness knows I am not suggesting, in recalling the case of this incompetent fellow, that all psychotherapists go forth and do likewise, for he was he and we are we. But I will say that he was alive, even though so obviously misguided; to his patients, the only thing that was of consequence was that he cared about them and that he thought there was something different they could do which would be right.