Negative Psychoanalysis for the Living Dead: Philosophical Pessimism and the Death Drive

by Julie Reshe

This book offers a radical alternative to the positive orientation of popular psychology. This positive orientation has been criticized numerous times. However, there has yet to be a coherent alternative proposed. We all know today that life hurts and that there is no ultimate remedy to this pain. The positive approach feels to us as dishonest and irrelevant. We require a new, more negative, perspective and practice, one that is honest and does not pretend to offer an escape from the agonies of the world. This book offers in three main chapters a ‘depressive realist’ perspective that explores the structural role of negativity and tragedy in relation to the individual psyche, society, and nature. It explores the possibility of ‘negative psychoanalysis’ which takes into account the tragedy of human existence instead of adopting escapist positions.

Genres: Philosophy, Psychology, Nonfiction, Psychoanalysis, Theory

155 pages, Hardcover

Published June 22, 2023

Reviews

[nethescurial · Rating 4 out of 5]

Sickness as the natural state, our exile from Eden was because we turned away from the beauty of chaos and imperfection to strive for the impossible - endlessly searching for an internal/external utopia that will never and could never come.

An unexpected but pervading reaction I got from a lot of this book was frustration tbh. Certainly not at Reshe, who is a salient writer and excellently bridges together her references/resources with the book's greater thesis, nor was my anger at any of these cited thinkers. But rather at how the book reveals humanity's refusal to grapple with the darker sides of existence and how that avoidance has such devastating effects on people who are already vulnerable. The positivist model as the societal default (which is considered the only acceptable way of viewing reality) automatically classes the vulnerable as "the other", as something wrong, as something to be "fixed" etc. This has very troubling downstream effects on those whom are excluded from the positivist model because if someone's suffering cannot be "fixed" they are considered lost causes and (socially, systemically) discarded. Reshe's goal with this work is not only to introduce a model that challenges status quo presumptions about human worth and wellness being related to their productivity and thus make more space for people who society excludes, but to make clear the existence of a "brotherhood of suffering between everything alive" (in the words of Zapffe), and how connection and harmony between others could be fostered by a wider understanding that this disharmony is exactly what makes us human. An able bodied person is only "separated" from a disabled one in degrees, not in ultimate substance. But unfortunately society and its therapeutic norms run on the default assumption that this separation is fundamental, that the disharmony is a void that needs to be filled rather than embraced in all its messiness and insubstantiality.

I'm very unaccustomed to western philosophy so some of the psychobabble here felt a bit above my station, but Reshe always brings the central ideas back around to coherence. The commentary on historical thinkers, particularly the sections on Freud and Nietzsche, are excellent and very illuminating to psychoanalytic and philosophical history. And overall this work is very broad in its scope for such a short volume - tying psychoanalysis, science and evolutionary theory, philosophy, social movements and materialism etc. back into its central ideas in a way that cohesive and never overwhelming, despite the heaviness of the subject matter. Reshe's project here definitely won't have universal appeal, but as someone who has long been accustomed to pessimistic ways of viewing the world this felt like a spiritual balm to read.

[Samuel Dionne · Rating 4 out of 5]

« Ce livre ne prétend pas offrir de solution, ni cherche-t’il à le faire »

J’ai grandement apprécié ma lecture de ce petit volume à cheval entre la philosophie et la psychologie.

Une personne se disant malheureuse ou qui n’est pas fonctionnelle selon les standards de la société pour des raisons psychologiques est perçue comme « malade », son malheur est un mal à soigner. Elle devrait être heureuse.

Cette perspective positive d’une condition humaine dont l’état normal est le bonheur est critiquée par l’auteure du livre qui avance que , en contraste à la « pulsion de vie », il existe « une pulsion de mort » face à l’absurdité de l’existence. Selon l’auteure, cette pulsion de mort est beaucoup plus puissante que la pulsion de vie. Et si l’état normal de l’être humain était le malheur? Sommes nous vivants? Ou morts-vivants?

Malgré les innombrables produits, traitements ou programmes que l’on nous vend sous prétexte d’être la clé du bonheur, personne ne connaît de recette secrète pour atteindre ledit bonheur. Ces solutions sont manifestées à travers des ancrages, sensés octroyer un sens à l’existence, qui sont entièrement arbitraires et aussi multiples que les personnes qui les manifestent : le succès, l’amour, la religion, etc.

Bien que je n’adhère pas entièrement à la vision profondément nihiliste de l’existence qu’avance l’auteure. Sa critique de la culture du « bonheur à tout prix », faisant vaguement écho au mythe de Sisyphe tel qu’utilisé par Camus, a gratté une démangeaison que je ne savais pas que j’avais.

[Jessica · Rating 4 out of 5]

Made me realize that philosophical pessimism is my default perspective as much of the content felt like a known truth to me. Very validating.

[Keith Wilson · Rating 5 out of 5]

According to the myth, Pandora was given a box containing all evil. When she got curious and opened it, they poured out into the world. Only Hope remained. She shut the lid before it had a chance to escape.

But what was Hope doing there in the first place? Is Hope an evil?

You would never think hope was an evil if you were to read popular psychology. Hope is the optimistic belief that positive outcomes are possible, even in the face of adversity. Hope gives us the drive to set goals and take action. When we have hope, we're more likely to persevere through difficulties. Hope supports resilience. It allows us to bounce back from difficult situations and keep moving forward. It helps us develop a mindset of growth and learning, enabling us to learn from failures and setbacks and continue to grow despite challenges. Additionally, when we're hopeful, we're more open to new ideas and possibilities. Hope sparks our imagination and encourages us to think outside the box.

What could be evil about that? Plenty, says psychoanalyst Julie Reshe. In her book, Negative Psychoanalysis for the Living Dead: Philosophical Pessimism and the Death Drive, hope is turning you into a zombie.

Being a Ukrainian, now living in rainy Ireland, could have something to do with her gloomy outlook. But, given the state of the world, she could be right, and us Americans, with our privileged optimism, are wearing rose colored glasses. Hope, she says, promises deliverance from the tragedy of existence, but inherently pathologizes human suffering. Rather than alleviate suffering, we should try to gracefully endure and stand with each other in our pain.

To hear the story as she tells it. [Trigger warning- it's grim.] It's inevitable that you'll run into some trouble. Shit happens, whether it's a dread disease, a human failing, a tragic accident, a grievous loss, or cosmic catastrophe. We call it trauma. It'll make you feel miserable and in despair. The lucky ones go numb, alienated from others and life itself. Something dies under misfortune. It feels like it's you.

At this point, some commit suicide and complete the dying quickly, or get into drug use, to preserve the numbness. Most go on, pretending to be alive as if nothing happened. They get dressed each day and go out into the world, as if on stage, and say their lines; but it's all a sham, just something to distract everyone from the shit show that's really happening.

If you have trouble playing your part, remembering your lines, you might go to see a shrink like me. I'll give you a diagnosis and teach you to tell a recovery story. Everyone will applaud you for overcoming your condition and, if you share it, bringing hope to others. You'll remember your trauma as a strange incident from the past. You'll tell yourself you had an episode of something, but you're better now.

However, she writes, what if others are just like you? What if we're all the living dead, pretending to be alive? What if the whole world, every human being without exception, is terminally sick with the same condition? What if others' support and agreement with you is not the sign that you have now joined them on a common path to salvation but only a part of your silent agreement to act like salvation is possible?

Freud would agree. As a doctor, he believed in hope, just like the rest of us. But then he found many people determined to persist in their suffering. The problem, he thought, was the Death Drive, something in us that's hell bent on self-destruction. It always wins, in the end, despite our efforts. The best a therapist can do, in Freud's words, is to transform neurotic misery into ordinary unhappiness.

Freud's Death Drive is an embarrassment that undermines the psychotherapeutic establishment from within, says Reshe. Shrinks after Freud have been attempting to cover it up. Who would ever go to a doctor who didn't believe in his own cure? Psychotherapists themselves have joined the living dead, pretending to be hopeful while drowning in peoples' shit.

I feel like I'm drowning in peoples' shit, as well as my own, on a daily basis. It's all I can do to keep from going under. I reach for whatever hope I find and cling to it. I often throw some hope out to others, like a life preserver, believing it'll save them. But that's not what happens, says Reshe. Instead, my life preserver clobbers them over the head. It becomes one more thing weighing them down.

The life preservers that sink my clients are the words I use to describe their condition. Illness, grief, suffering, depression, trauma, self-destructiveness, and anxiety. These words are stigmatizing because they signify a flaw. I follow them with other words that sound hopeful but are just as damaging. Words like treatment, rehabilitation, recovery, healing, and overcoming. All these words together have the effect of saying my clients are damaged and need to get better before they can fully join the human race.

What if I have it all backwards? What if illness, grief, suffering, depression, trauma, self-destructiveness, and anxiety are inherent elements of the human condition? A feature, not a flaw. What if the words I mean to be the most helpful, treatment, rehabilitation, recovery, healing, and overcoming, are all burdens that impede them? What if they're already part of the human race, but I'm a zombie, turning them into flesh-eating monsters, like me?

I wouldn't be a very good therapist, would I? And yet, any therapist who does not traffic in hope would be in danger of losing his livelihood. Perhaps Freud had it right when, after he discovered the Death Drive, he said that psychoanalysts shouldn't be doctors, promising relief, but a new kind of profession that bears witness to suffering and is irrepressibly authentic.

Reshe's point of view appears to be extreme, and even dangerous; but she's actually talking about something very familiar, something popular psychology promotes all the time, alongside hope: Radical Acceptance.

The term Radical Acceptance was coined by psychologist Marsha Linehan when she developed dialectical behavior therapy (DBT). She defines it as the willingness to experience life as it is, in the present moment, without trying to change it. The adjective radical is used to distinguish it from other forms of acceptance, such as passive acceptance or resignation. It emphasizes the importance of fully accepting one's reality, especially the parts that are difficult or painful. It's about creating psychological flexibility and freedom by allowing oneself to experience difficult emotions without letting them overwhelm or define you. It recognizes that thoughts and feelings are transient and trying to fight or control them can lead to increased suffering.

Radical Acceptance presents a paradox. Accept things as they are so you can change them. Reshe will have none of that. She wants her acceptance pure, as if it were to change nothing, otherwise it's just a sneaky way of smuggling positivity back in. She wants us to take a swan dive into the abyss, not rappel down on a hope rope.

I believe Reshe deserves a lot of credit for her own journey into the abyss, no matter how she got there. She may have returned with a black heart, but she brought back an important message. There are humans down there, living in states of hopelessness, and they can still be dignified, good, and beautiful. Misfortune doesn't necessarily damage you; it could just as easily make you whole. Trauma is not a flaw, it's a feature; not a wound, it's an initiation into the most profound mysteries of life.

I have never felt right about forcing people to look on the sunny side when they are the most miserable. When someone has a dread disease, a crippling handicap, or is ensnared in a dysfunctional system, hope feels false at best, and cruel and insensitive, at worst. And yet, I would never refuse to give hope to someone looking for it. To withhold hope is just as cruel as withholding pain medication to someone in agony, just because you think they should feel the pain. To withhold hope to someone who has come to me for therapy is like operating without anesthetic.

Perhaps Reshe has spent too long in the abyss and has forgotten that seeking hope is also an inherent element of the human condition. Hope is not just imposed by popular psychology; it's baked into our bones. The very act of thought presupposes problem-solving and implies hope.
Someone once said that it's a mark of maturity when we can entertain two opposing concepts at the same time. Here are two to try it out on: hope and acceptance. Juggle them both and you'll star in the human circus.

If you need me to teach you how to juggle, I can't do it. I can explain how it's done, but you need to practice it before you can learn. The principle is this. Keep both hope and acceptance in the air at the same time. Don't drop either of them. When one falls, catch it and throw it up; then catch the other and throw that when it falls. Do that repeatedly. If it's acceptance that's falling, read Resche and Linehan. If you're losing hope, then accept whatever hope you can find.

Keith Wilson writes about the intersection of psychotherapy and philosophy in his blog series, The Reflective Eclectic

[Paul Ataua · Rating 4 out of 5]

Psychoanalysis has so often been seen in a positive orientation as a means of getting people back on track or ‘curing’ people. Recently, people have suggested a radical alternative to this and Reshe’s book attempts to provide a coherent alternative to that positive approach. I was looking forward to this as I find myself much in the same camp as the author and the work of the three thinkers she focuses on, Catherine Malabou, Todd McGowan, and Alenka Zupančič. While it does make so many great points, it is still very much a grab bag of thoughts that doesn’t add up to a very coherent argument, and while the ending sections with an interview with the relevant thinker, not one of these ‘interviews’ did much to clarify their core ideas. I loved reading it, but expected a stronger exposition of the ideas somewhere.

[leren_lezen · Rating 5 out of 5]

Amazing 😍

[Sanay]

3/5 ⭐️