In Cesare Pavese’s diary, suicide can be easily glimpsed since we find, first, the suicidal idea that appears repeatedly as a solution, and, second, temperamental oscillations that cloud the reason. In Antero de Quental, the picture is completely different. Antero is, among other things, a stoic—and this implies both the ability to accept reality and the ability to control himself. In Antero, despite the atrocious psychological conflict, we find reason taking the reins of instinct, and from this it follows that the spirit, accustomed to sharp oscillations, is also accustomed to converting them into fruitful impulses through meditation. How, at the age of forty-nine, could Antero commit suicide? On the one hand, it seems obvious to me that we are all subject to the susceptibilities of the race; on the other hand, it seems erroneous to want to attribute common causes to an uncommon man.
Tag: psychology
Frankl, Jung and Freud
Thank God I do not frequent psychology clinics, but I would bet that Frankl’s logotherapy outperforms Jung’s analytical psychology and Freud’s psychoanalysis together in the rate of cases of impressive behavioral change and therapeutic success. In logotherapy, I see a very clear exit door in case of good application; something I also see in Jung’s analytical psychology, but not in Freud’s psychoanalysis, which seems more like a palliative system that the patient can never get rid of—at least not in truly serious cases. It is true: there are cases and cases—perhaps, I base my conclusion on the infrequent ones. Psychoanalysis has molded itself to its patients, and for them it can be effective. Analytical psychology, which is broader and deeper, is also capable of treating them—although perhaps for some “psychological types” it is less enjoyable and, consequently, less satisfying. For many patients, routine venting is enough; but for the desperate, the expressly disillusioned who enters a consulting room in complete helplessness, carrying in his hands a mediocre and unsatisfactory life, which methodically inhibits his aspirations and delivers no meaning—for he, the suicidal candidate, sitting on a comfortable divan and moving his facial muscles is useless, and Frankl’s disciple seems to me the best prepared to deliver to him a definitive solution hardly achievable by other therapies.
To Live Is to Believe the Lie
“L’arte de vivere è l’arte di saper credere alle menzogne” —says, rightly, Cesare Pavese. To act, it is necessary to believe; there is no life without hope, without at least a tiny expectation, a minimum twinkle in the eyes that, upon waking, hopes for a better today than yesterday. Man allows himself to be deluded by psychological necessity; illusions are food for a mind programmed to believe. This is why the analysis of the human being necessarily involves the investigation of the irrational.
The Realization of the Fragility of Life
The human brain, a machine programmed to seek and identify patterns—even where there are none—only under duress admits the conclusions that come from the realization of the fragility of life. It seems unnatural to have as determinant and presumable that which, in an instant, abruptly transforms the reality. The false slowness of time deceives it, the slow change of states seems to lead to a non-existent end—and the machine thus gives birth to erroneous judgments about existence. The unpredictable dynamics of life seem to want to force it to accept that not everything is about cause and effect; but for it, to do so is to confess its weakness and succumb to the irrational.