These are "homework" notes written for Kira's Ways of Knowing workshop during a week the topic was Anger (and its complements). It's a huge topic and I found myself noting highlights and ideas.
Some observations this week:
I resist easy formulas and simplifying definitions, especially regarding something as complex as human emotion in its full context. As a general orientation, I like to consider that:
For every reasonable generalization, there's also (1) a contrary or opposite that's also true; (2) a set of conditions needed to maintain it; and (3) another set of conditions tending to refute it.
Abstract and intellectual as that sounds, it has emotional underpinnings defining way of thinking and relating. When I feel oppressed by and resist what I interpret as fundamentalism and dogmatism (in any field) it leads to subtle conflict. Generally, I believe people use ideas in an attempt to structure themselves and their social world; what I hope is to able to see their positive motivations and work toward some constructive collective relationship.
When dealing with anger, conflict, and aggression in its many forms, whether as a friend, a member of a group, a citizen, or a parent, I believe it's possible to "hold" the anger in a larger, positive context of compassion, cooperation, and love (or unconditional positive regard as it's been called).
As a personal observation, I've noticed that when things get tense in a group, when there are conflicts, it's often because people are trying to influence the group to do things in certain ways. Some familiar (and shortsighted) interpretations construe this in negative terms as "a struggle for power" or "an ego thing" or an attempt to save face, "avoid pain", or displace aggression onto others. Other interpretations see a humans in a more positive and intelligent light. For all the negative interpretations, I think the following are generally also true:
,
I recently saw the movie "The King's Speech". In this true story, the Duke of York is called to take on the role of the King when his older brother abdicates. The difficulty is, he has a speech impediment -- a stutter -- that makes him incapable of public speaking (and consequently of taking on the role of leading his country). This takes place at the brink of World War II. The King forms a relationship with a resourceful speech therapist who creates a therapeutic relationship with him, mentors him, and helps him change his speech patterns, which are in part psychological in origin, in order to find his "voice" and his identity as someone capable of leading his country. A "voice" is difficult to change however, and his need to take on the role of King and lead his country during wartime is a great motivator. Without this -- a social need bigger than the man -- he would not have succeeded.
In one instructive scene, he is watching a newsreel of Adolf Hitler speaking to a huge crowd, shouting and gesticulating. His young daughter Margaret asks him what Hitler is saying. The King replies: "I don't know what he's saying, darling -- but he's saying it very well." I liked this insight because the King was going beyond seeing Hitler categorically, as an enemy of the state (Hitler is to this day, an iconic "monster" of anger and evil) to draw from him a part of the energy he himself needed to succeed as King. In the following scene when he is delivering his speech, his mentor is right next to him with an encouraging and benevolent expression, and fluidly, when necessary, a fierce one. The film shows the people of his nation listening to his address -- he is announcing the declaration of war and the coming sacrifices that will be required -- and taking courage from him.
This quality of benevolence plus fierceness -- in which anger coexists with and is guided by love -- has been called "heart anger" and has been called an archetypal quality of leadership and kingship. Martin Luther King had this quality in his speech.
In an article titled Compassionate Wrath: Transpersonal Approaches to Anger, Robert A. Masters makes the following distinctions:
As an emotion, anger is an aroused, often heated state in which are combined a compellingly felt sense of being wronged or frustrated (hence the moral quality of anger), and a counteracting, potentially energizing feeling of power, both of which are interconnected biologically, psychologically, and culturally. Rather than being a single, clearly perimetered entity, anger appears to be a complex process, a shifting, fluxing interplay of many states of mind and feeling. Desire, frustration, aggression, self-pity, righteousness, confusion, hurt, pride, calculation, blame, feelings of abandonment -- all these and more may arise and pass or overlap in a very short time, during which we conceive of ourselves as “being angry.”
Anger, contrary to much of popular opinion (both secular and religious), is not necessarily the same as aggression. Aggression involves some form of attack, whereas anger may or may not. Aggression is devoid of compassion and vulnerability -- it is, says John Welwood, “hardness cut off from softness” -- but anger, however fiery its delivery might be (or might have to be), can be part of an act of caring and vulnerability. Jean Baker Miller argues that the usual way of thinking in contemporary culture does not significantly consider anger in the context of relationships, but rather links it with aggression. Aggression may not be so much an outcome of anger, as an avoidance of it and its frequently interpersonal nature and underlying feelings of woundedness and vulnerability. Viewing anger as necessarily aggression -- or even as the cause of aggression -- gives us an excuse to classify it is a “lower” or “primitive” emotion. Something far from spiritual.
I have collected a few notes on the topic of emotions from a perspective of science, philosophy, and spirituality. I find this background very helpful for understanding -- or at least considering possibilities -- of the nature of anger and other emotions and their role in human behavior.