7 6
varied, must not have followed a single, universal line. Still a third
reason touches closer to home: modem man seems to have trouble
understanding money; it is too close to him, too much a part of
his life. As someone once remarked, the last thing a fish would
discover is water, since it is so unconsciously and naturally a part
of its life. But beyond all this, as Brown has so well understood,
the reason money is so elusive to our understanding is that it is
still sacred, still a magical object on which we rely for our entrance
into immortality. Or, put another way, money is obscure to analysis
because it is still a living myth, a religion. Oscar Wilde observed
that “religions die when one points out their truth. Science is the
history of dead religions.” From this point of view, the religion of
money has resisted the revelation of its truth; it has not given
itself over to science because it has not wanted to die.
How else explain that we do not yet have a sacred history of
money, despite the massive collection of anthropological and his-
torical monographs, the observations by Plato and Aristotle them-
selves, those by Augustine on money fetishism, the writings of
Simmel and later German and French scholars, the fascinating
thoughts of Spengler, the trenchant essays of A. M. Hocart, the
insights of Marx, and now, finally, of modem psychoanalysis? This
is where Brown’s synthetic talents come into the problem: he
leaned on this long tradition, including Freud’s theory of anality,
and raked over it all with a penetration and doggedness that re-
minded one of Das Kapital. Brown showed that despite all the
expert hemmings and hawings, money was what it was — sacred
power — and not another thing. There is no purpose in repeating
here Brown’s running argument with key authorities; let me just
sum up the high points, partly from my own point of view.
We get many key insights into the early history of money, even
though it is shrouded in obscurity. For one thing, anthropologists
have long known that money existed on primitive levels of social
life; and when we took Anthropology 1A, we were amused at the
“perversity” of primitives. Imagine such bizarre things as dogs’
teeth, sea shells, bands of feathers, and mats being used as money!
These things not only seem to us worthless, they may even be
repugnant to our sense of what is “proper” to carry around and to
value. The key to the whole thing is, of course, that we live in a
Money: The New Universal Immortality Ideology 77
different power world than did the primitives. For us, motors, guns,
electric circuits embody power, for the primitives, power resided
in the qualities of living things and in the organs that embodied
those qualities: teeth equaled biting and tearing power, with their
uncanny smoothness and white luster and their terrible destructive-
ness to living beings; feathers equaled the freedom and miracu-
lousness of flight; and so on. 8 These forms of primitive money,
then, did not have mere ornamental value or practical exchange
value as we understand it; they had real spirit-power value. And
when it comes to the evolution of our own money we must look
to the same source, to its origin in magic amulets or tokens, as
Brown — basing himself on Laum — understood.
The noted historian G. Eliot Smith put together ap interesting
speculation on the origin of gold as a thing of great value in an-
cient Egypt. What leads man to assign great value to something?
That it gives life, enables man to triumph over weakness and
death by borrowing some of the powers of the gods. Eliot Smith
put together the following development: There was a cowrie shell
in the Red Sea which came to be prized as a token of life-giving
powers, as an amulet to ward off the danger of death and to pro-
long the existence of the souls of those already dead. It was an
immortality symbol, then, that came to be identified with the god-
dess Hathor, the divine cow, the Great Mother. Eliot Smith says:
The people of Egypt began to make models of these and other magical
shells in clay, stone and any other material that came to hand. These
were believed to have the magic of the real shells. ... In the course
[of time they] discovered that they could make durable and attractive
models by using the soft plastic metal which was lying around unused
and unappreciated in the Nubian desert. . . . The lightness and beauty
of the untarnishable yellow metal made an instant appeal. The gold
models soon became more popular than the original shells, and the
reputation for life-giving was then in large measure transferred from the
mere form of the amulet to the metal itself. 9
In other words, the powers of the god came to be present in the
metal.
In India, as Hocart so clearly showed, gold was straightforwardly
identified with the fire god Agni. Gold could be substituted for
ESCAPE FROM EVIL
78
the sun in the sacred ritual. Hocart quotes this telling passage from
the S atapatha Brahamana:
For this gold plate is the same as truth. Yonder sun is the same as
truth. It is made of gold: for gold is light, and he (the sun) is light;
gold is immortality, and he is immortality; it is round, for he is round. . . .
Indeed, this gold plate is the sun. 10
Hocart, in his masterful little essay, "Money,” suggests a common
origin for the gold coin, the crown, and the halo, since all three
represent the sun’s disc. (We liked to imagine that we knew coins
were round because they could fit more comfortably in our pock-
ets. ) The great economist Keynes agreed that the special attraction
of gold and silver as primary monetary values was due to their
symbolic identification with the sun and the moon, which occupied
a primary sacred place in the early “cosmic government” cosmolo-
gies. Even more fascinating is the fact that the value ratio of gold
and silver has remained stable from classical antiquity through the
Middle Ages and even into modem times as 1:1312. Brown agrees
with Laum that such a stability cannot be explained in logical terms
of rational supply and demand: the explanation must lie in the
astrological ratio of the cycles of the divine counterparts of these
metals — the sun and moon. 11 We have forgotten how tenacious
astrological magic has been in history, even in the face of its vitality
still today. Man has always sought to discover the special magical
properties in nature and to bring them to bear in his life. The
ancients sought these special qualities in qualities of living things,
in natural miraculous objects like the sun, and in the ratios they
could tease out of nature. Until very modem times, to take one
example, musical instruments were built in magical astrological
proportions so as to make the most divinely harmonious sounds;
and I personally know one inspired guitar maker who uses the
ancient “Greek foot” as a basic measure.
Currency, then, seems to have had its origin in magic amulets
and magic imitations of the sun, which were worn or stored be-
cause they contained the protecting spirit powers. If gold had any
"utility,” as Hocart says, it was a supernatural utility: “a little of
it was given away in exchange for quantities of stuff because a few
Money: The New Universal Immortality Ideology 79
ounces of divinity were worth pounds of gross matter.” 12 And so
we see how it was that money came to buy many other things: if
it was magic, people would give anything to have it. As Geza
R6heim put it in a very happy formulation, “originally people do
not desire money because you can buy things for it, but you can
buy things for money because people desire it. is
If gold was sacred, we can now understand — with Simmel and
Hocart — how it was that the first banks were temples and the first
ones to issue money were the priests. With the ascendancy of
priestcraft it became the priests themselves who monopolized the
official traffic in sacred charms and in the exchange of favors for
gold. The first mints were set up in the temples of the gods, whence
our word “money” — from the mint in the temple of Juno Moneta,
Juno the admonisher, on the Capitoline Hill in Rome. Forgery was
sacrilege because the coins embodied the powers of the gods and
only the priests could handle such powers; we get the same feeling
about counterfeiters today, that they are practicing an unspeakable
usurpation of hallowed powers.
The temples, then, were clearinghouses for money transactions,
just like banks today. It was surely not lost on the priests — the first
leisure class — that the tiniest quantity of sacred gold-power could
bring in huge amounts of food and other stuffs. Priests may have
talents for dealing with the supernatural, but they have very human
appetite (and often lots of it); and if they have the leisure to ply
their trade, it is because since earliest times they have convinced
their fellows that it is important to assure that leisure by bringing
part of the fruit of the sweat of their brow to the priests. And so
the food producers must have brought food to the temples in
exchange for prayers and sacrifices being performed on their be-
half. Also, it must have worked the other way too: gold was a fee
paid to the priest for his intercessions with the invisible powers.
As Hocart pointed out, in India the gold fee was the proper one
to pay to a god, whose essence was gold. 14 Whence the tradition
of the earliest coins being imprinted with the images of gods, then
divine kings, down to presidents in our time. All visitors to the
most holy temples could bring back with them gold encapsulations
of sacred power that would keep them safe throughout the year.
As we finger, in our pocket, the face on the silver dollar, we re-
8o
ESCAPE FROM EVIL
experience some of the quiet confidence of the ancients who left
the temples with their life-securing charms. Today clerics similarly
finger the souvenir medallions of their visit to holy Rome, and over
the years they wear away the face of the Pope on these medallions.
The Pope’s power is present in the effigy just like the god’s was
in the coin.
We know that the priests were part of the immortality ideology
of what has aptly been called “cosmic government” and “the astro-
biological unification of divine kingship.” We have already de-
scribed the hierarchy: the king got his powers from the heavens
and radiated them in his own person to the people with the help
of the priests, to the benefit of the patriarchal families. We might
say that money coinage fit beautifully into this scheme, because
now the cosmic powers could be the property of everyman, without
even the need to visit temples: you could now traffic in immor-
tality in the marketplace. Nor is this just a manner of speaking,
for this traffic was a most serious new business that arose. Admit-
tedly, when we reconstruct the phenomenological history of money
it is impossible for us moderns to “get into the mind and behind
the eyes” of the ancient negotiators. But a new man emerged in
the ancient world, a man who based the value of his life — and so
of his immortality — on a new cosmology centered on coins. We
can’t very well grasp what the painting visible even today at the
entrance of a house in the ruins of Pompeii meant to the owner of
the house or to the passerby whom it was obviously supposed to
impress. But a picture of a man proudly weighing his penis in a
scale of gold coins must convey a feeling that the powers of nature
as exemplified in the reproductive life force have their equivalency
in gold, even perhaps that fatherhood is given by gold as well as
the penis — and generally that the causa sui project is well in hand.
And the two chests of coins just inside the entrance, adjacent to
the sleeping rooms of the adult occupants, surely convey the new
way of life based on the feeling in the painting. Money became
the distilled value of all existence, as Spengler seems to have under-
stood so well:
When . . . Corinth was destroyed, the melting-down of the statues for
coinage and the auctioning of the inhabitants at the slave-mart were,
Money: The New Universal Immortality Ideology 81
for Classical minds, one and the same operation — the transformation of
corporeal objects into money. 15
Or, we might say, into a single immortality symbol, a ready way of
relating the increase of oneself to all the important objects and
events of one’s world. In this sense, money seems to have repre-
sented a cosmological unification of visible and invisible powers —
powers of the gods, of kings, of heroic victors in war — and the
distillation of the booty of war. And at the center of this cosmology
stood the person himself with the visible counters of his own in-
crease, the divine testimonial to his own immortal worth, distilling
and spanning both worlds.
It is along lines such as these that we have to understand the
meaning of money, from its very inception in prehistory and from
its explosive development with the invention of coinage in the
ancient world. Money is sacred as all cultural things are sacred. As
Rank taught us and as Brown so powerfully reaffirmed, “Custom
is . . . essentially sacred” — and why should money be any excep-
tion? 16 The thing that connects money with the domain of the
sacred is its power. We have long known that money gives power
over men, freedom from family and social obligations, from friends,
bosses, and underlings; it abolishes one’s likeness to others; it
creates comfortable distance between persons, easily satisfies their
claims on each other without compromising them in any direct
and personal way; on top of this it gives literally limitless ability
to satisfy appetites of almost any material kind. Power is not an
economic category, and neither is it simply a social category: “All
power is essentially sacred power.” 17 This is perfect. All power is
in essence power to deny mortality. Either that or it is not real
power at all, not ultimate power, not the power that mankind is
really obsessed with. Power means power to increase oneself, to
change one’s natural situation from one of smallness, helplessness,
finitude, to one of bigness, control, durability, importance. In its
power to manipulate physical and social reality money in some
ways secures one against contingency and accident; it buys body-
guards, bullet-proof glass, and better medical care. Most of all, it
can be accumulated and passed on, and so radiates its powers even
after one’s death, giving one a semblance of immortality as he lives
82
ESCAPE FROM EVIL
in the vicarious enjoyments of his heirs that his money continues
to buy, or in the magnificence of the art works that he commis-
sioned, or in the statues of himself and the majesty of his own
mausoleum. In short, money is the human mode par excellence
of coolly denying animal boundness, the determinism of nature.
And here Brown takes issue with orthodox Freudian theory and
makes a real improvement on it, makes it amenable to our under-
standing in one of its most inverted and esoteric areas. We have
always been put off when psychoanalysts equated money with
feces — it seemed so crass and unreal. We cannot imagine pure
pleasure in playing with feces; even to children feces are ambiva-
lent and to some degree distasteful. If as tiny infants they play
with feces, it is at a time when feces can have no precise meaning
to them; if later on they play with feces, this is already a different
kind of play, a play of mastery of anxiety, a dealing with a very
ambivalent area of experience. Also, it has always seemed simplistic
to say that money equals feces, because money has been so super-
charged with the yearning of ambition and hope; it could not be
merely infantile smearing, not simple self-indulgence. In fact, as
Brown has so well argued, money does not equal feces at all, does
not represent them at all: rather, it represents the denial of feces,
of physicalness, of animality, of decay and death.
To rise above the body is to equate the body with excrement. In the
last analysis, the peculiar human fascination with excrement is the
peculiar human fascination with death . 18
Money is associated with the anal region because it represents par
excellence the abstract cultural mode of linking man with tran-
scendent powers. As Marx so unfailingly understood, it is the
perfect “fetish” for an ape-like animal who bemuses himself with
striking icons. Money sums up the causa sui project all in itself:
how man, with the tremendous ingenuity of his mind and the
materials of his earth, can contrive the dazzling glitter, the magical
ratios, the purchase of other men and their labors, to link his
destiny with the stars and live down his animal body . 18 The only
Money: The New Universal Immortality Ideology 83
hiint we get of the cultural repression seeping through is that even
dedicated financiers wash their hands after handling money. The
victory over death is a fantasy that cannot be fully believed in;
money doesn’t entirely banish feces, and so the threat of germs and
vulnerability in the very process of securing immortality. If we say
that “money is God,” this seems like a simple and cynical obser-
vation on the corruptibility of men. But if we say that “money
negotiates immortality and therefore is God,” this is a scientific
formula that is limpidly objective to any serious student of man.
Nor do we have to dig back into prehistory and conjecture on
what money meant to the ancient Greeks or Pompeiians. We see
the: change from tribal modes of achieving power to money modes
riglbit before our eyes: the drama of early Athenian society is re-
peal ted in any area where detribalization is taking place. Tempels’s
continent on the modem Bantu eloquently sums up the new man
whc< emerged in history and continues to emerge:
Recently I have heard Bantu of the old school say, with reference to
our modem product, the Europeanized evolues “These are men of
lupeto (money).” They have explained to me that these Europeanized
youitiig men of ours know nothing but money, that it is the only thing
possessing any value for them. They . . . give up their Bantu philosophy
... for a philosophy of money. Money is their one and only ideal, their
end and the supreme ultimate norm regulating their actions. . . . Every-
thing . . . has been destroyed by this new value, this modern universal
rule of conduct: lupeto, money. 20
Hew to understand this obsessive, fanatical shift that occurs in one
generation, right under the eyes of the elders, except to see it as a
hunger for self-perpetuation, a hunger driven by the discredit into
which the traditional immortality ideology has fallen? The rapid
and utter disintegration of tribal society has always been, histori-
cally, the result of the discredit of old sources of immortalizing
powers and the belief that the new ways of life brought by the
foreigners contain the genuine, the stronger powers. The old group
no longer gives life, and so the young chuck the social obligations
84
ESCAPE FROM EVIL
in iavor of real, new power over men and things. Missionary ac-
tivity has gone hand in hand with superior weapons and medicines
because the priests have always known that they have to prove
that their god represents superior powers. Think; if a race of men
with advanced learning, health, and weapons were to land on our
planet and tell us about the god who sustains them in Alpha
Centauri, a new religion would sweep over large numbers of peo-
ple overnight and discredit most of our institutions.
Thus money has been the single red line connecting the various
failed historical ideologies of immortality — from lupeto men called
by a hundred other tribal names, through Pompeii, through the
buying of indulgences in the Middle Ages, through Calvin and
modern commercialism. Underneath the different historical forms of
immortality striving has pulsated the lifeblood of money. In this
sense, the social-structural forms of immortality striving that suc-
ceeded each other up to modem times have been a kind of mask
or fa8 ESCAPE FROM EVIL
ends of his problematic dualism — he gets physical and spiritual
energy. An Associated Press dispatch from the “Cambodian Front
Lines” quotes a Sgt, Danh Hun on what he did to his North
Vietnamese foes:
I try to cut them open while they’re still dying or soon after they are
dead. That way the livers give me the strength of my enemy. . . . [One
day] when they attacked we got about 80 of them and everyone ate
liver. 18 *
The Logic of Scapegoating
From all this we have to agree with an observation by the
existentialist Jean-Paul Sartre: “Hell is other people.” From the
beginning men have served the appetites of one another in the most
varying ways, but these were always reducible to a single theme:
the need for fuel for one’s own aggrandizement and immunity. Men
use one another to assure their personal victory over death. Nothing
could be further from the “irrationality” that Mumford complained
about. In one of the most logical formulas on the human condition
Rank observed, “The death fear of the ego is lessened by the killing,
the sacrifice, of the other; through the death of the other, one buys
oneself free from the penalty of dying, of being killed.” 20 No won-
der men are addicted to war. Rank’s insight is foreshadowed in
• There is a naturalness about trophy taking that may stem partly from man’s
primate nature. I am thinking of the interest that primates show for striking
details and objects in their environment. Children show real fascination over
gadgets and trinkets, and are constantly engaged in hoarding and swapping
quantities of marbles, picture cards, etc. I remember how the agate stones that
we called “moonies” seemed to possess real magical powers and how we cov-
eted them. More than that, there may be some natural connection between
trophy taking and being a hunter, oriented to a triumph over the prey. It
gives a real feeling of jx>wer to bring back a part of the prey; it is a way of
physically affirming ones victory. The victor does not leave the field of triumph
empty-handed as he came, but actually increases his own organism as a result
of the encounter, by adding to it some of the volume of the victim. A recent
film study of baboons in their natural habitat showed them beating a dummy
lion until its head broke off, upon which the leader seized the head and took
it away with him.
The Nature of Social Evil 109
the basic theory of psychoanalysis and was given by Freud him-
self. 21 Freud saw that when it comes to enemies and strangers, the
ego can consign them to the limbo of death without even a second
thought. Modern man lives in illusion, said Freud, because he
denies or suppresses his wish for the other’s death and for his own
immortality; and it is precisely because of this illusion that mankind
cannot get control over social evils like war. This is what makes war
irrational: each person has the same hidden problem, and as antag-
onists obsessively work their cross purposes, the result is truly
demonic; the film The Bridge on the River Kwai summed this up
beautifully. Not only enemies but even friends and loved ones are
fair fuel for our own perpetuation, said Freud: “In our unconscious
we daily and hourly deport all who stand in our way, all who have
offended or injured us.” 22 This is the price of our natural animal
narcissism; very few of us, if pressured, would be unwilling to
sacrifice someone else in our place. The exception to this is of
course the hero. We admire him precisely because he is willing to
give his life for others instead of taking theirs for his. Heroism is
an unusual reversal of routine values, and it is another thing that
makes war so uplifting, as mankind has long known: war is a ritual
for the emergence of heroes, and so for the transmutation of
common, selfish values. In war men live their own ennoblement.
But what we are reluctant to admit is that the admiration of the
hero is a vicarious catharsis of our own fears, fears that are deeply
hidden; and this is what plunges us into uncritical hero worship:
what the hero does seems so superlative to us. Thus from another
point of view we see how right Freud was on enslavement by our
illusions based on our repressions.
The logic of scapegoating, then, is based on animal narcissism and
hidden fear. If luck, as Aristotle said, is when the arrow hits the
fellow next to you, then scapegoating is pushing the fellow into
its path — with special alacrity if he is a stranger to you. A particu-
larly pungent phrasing of the logic of scapegoating one’s own death
has been given by Alan Harrington: it is as though the sacrificer
were to say to God after appraising how nature feeds voraciously
on life, “If this is what you want, here, take it!” 23 — but leave me
alone.
If anyone still thinks that this is merely clever phrasing in the
110
ESCAPE FROM EVIL
minds of alienated intellectuals trying to make private sense out of
the evil of their world, let him consult the daily papers. Almost
every year there is a recorded sacrifice of human life in remote
areas of Chile to appease the earthquake gods. There have been
fifteen recent officially reported cases of human sacrifice in India —
one being that of a four-year-old boy sacrificed to appease a Hindu
goddess, and another involving a west Indian immigrant couple
in England who sacrificed their 16-year-old son, following prayer
and meditation, to ward off the death of the mother. Freud was
right; in the narcissism of earthly bodies, where each is imprisoned
fatally in his own finite integument, everyone is alien to oneself
and subject to the status of scapegoat for one’s own life.®
The logic of killing others in order to affirm our own life unlocks
much that puzzles us in history, much that with our modern minds
we seem unable to comprehend, such as the Roman arena games.
If the killing of a captive affirms the power of. your life, how much
does the actual massive staging of life-and-death struggles affirm a
whole society? The continual grinding sacrifice of animal and
human life in the arenas was all of a piece with the repressions of a
society that was dedicated to war and that lived in the teeth of
death. It was a perfect pastime to work off anxieties and show the
ultimate personal control of death: the thumbs up or thumbs down
on the gladiators. The more death you saw unfold before your eyes
and the more you thrust your thumbs downward, the more you
bought off your own life. And why was the crucifixion such a
favorite form of execution? Because, I think, it was actually a con-
trolled display of dying; the small seat on the cross held the body
up so that dying would be prolonged. The longer people looked at
the death of someone else, the more pleasure they could have in
sensing the security and the good fortune of their own survival. 24
The whole meaning of a victory celebration, as Canetti argued, is
that we experience the power of our lives and the visible decrease
• Canetti speculates beautifully on how sacrifice springs from crowd fear, the
same kind of fear a herd of gazelles experiences when the cheetah is chasing
it: the moment of catharsis for the herd is when the fear abates because the
cheetah has singled out one for a kill. The sacrifice of one for the many is
thus a kind of naturalsppGOSGmerailf hostile powers. See Elias Canetti, Crowds
and Power (London: Gollancz, 1962), p. 309.
Ill
The Nature of Social Evil
of the enemy: it is a sort of staging of the whole meaning of a war,
the demonstration of the essence of it — which is why the public
display, humiliation, and execution of prisoners is so important.
“They are weak and die: we are strong and live.” The Roman
arena games were, in this sense, a continued staging of victory
even in the absence of a war; each civilian experienced the same
powers that he otherwise had to earn in war. 25 If we are repulsed
by the bloodthirstiness of those games, it is because we choose to
banish from our consciousness what true excitement is. For man,
maximum excitement is the confrontation of death and the skillful
defiance of it by watching others fed to it as he survives transfixed
with rapture. Today only those such as racing-car drivers and sports
parachutists can stage these kinds of dramas in civilian life.
It seems that the Nazis really began to dedicate themselves to
their large-scale sacrifices of life after 1941 when they were begin-
ning to lose and suspected at some dim level of awareness that they
might. They hastened the infamous "final solution” of the Jews
toward the closing days of their power, and executed their own
political prisoners — like Dietrich Bonhoeffer — literally moments
before the end. Retreating Germans in Russia and Italy were
especially apt to kill with no apparent motive, just to leave a heap
of bodies. It is obvious they were offering last-minute hostages to
death, stubbornly affirming in a blind, organismic way, “I will not
die, you will — see?” It seems that they' wanted some kind of victory
over evil, and when it couldn’t be the Russians, then it would be the
Jews and even other Germans; any substitute scapegoat would
have to do. In the recent Bengali revolt the Western Pakistanis
often killed anyone they saw, and when they didn’t see anyone
they would throw grenades into houses; they piled up a toll of over
3 million despised Bengalis. It is obvious that man kills to cleanse
the earth of tainted ones, and that is what victory means and how
it commemorates his life and power: man is bloodthirsty to ward
off the flow of his own blood. And it seems further, out of the war
experiences of recent times, when man sees that he is trapped and
excluded from longer earthly duration, he says, “If I can’t have it,
then neither can you.”
Other things that we have found hard to understand have been
hatreds and feuds between tribes and families, and continual
112
ESCAPE FROM EVIL
butchery practiced for what seemed petty, prideful motives of per-
sonal honor and revenge. But the idea of sacrifice as self- preserva-
tion explains these very directly. As Rank saw, the characteristic of
primitives and of family groups was that they represented a sort of
soul pool of immortality-substance. If you depleted this pool by one
member, you yourself became more mortal. In Rank’s inspired
words:
It is my opinion that this ideology offers a basis for understanding both
the bitter hatreds and feuds between North American Indian tribes, and
the feuds or vendettas currently practiced in many European countries.
Whether it was the theft of women under exogamy, or the murder of
male members of the tribe, it was always a matter of avenging serious
offenses upon the spiritual economy of the community which, being
robbed of one of its symbols of spiritual revenue, sought to cancel or at-
least avenge the shortages created in the immortality account . 20
This kind of action is natural to primitives especially, who believe
in the balance of nature and are careful not to overly deplete the
store of life-stuff. Revenge equals the freeing of life-stuff into the
common reservoir “from which it can then be reassigned,” as
Jordan Scher very nicely put it. In fact, he extends the primitive
notion of life-stuff right up to modern society and sees it as a
motive for genocidal war and even the everyday secular process of
justice: the guilty one is punished in order to return his life-stuff to
the community . 27
I don’t know how much of a burden of explanation we would
want to put on the pool of life-stuff in modern, secular society. For
one thing, we no longer believe in the balance of nature; for an-
other, we don’t often grant to others the same life quality that we
have. But whether or not we believe in a steady pool of life-stuff,
numbers are important to man: if we “buy off” our own death with
that of others, we want to buy it off at a good price. In wartime,
as Zilboorg put it:
We mourn our dead without undue depression because we are able to
celebrate an equal if not greater number of deaths in the ranks of the
enemy . 28
The Nature of Social Evil 113
This explains the obsessive nature of “body counting” of the enemy
as well as the universal tendency to exaggerate his losses and
minimize those of one’s own side. People can only lie so blatantly
and eagerly when their own lives are at stake; these exaggerations
always seem silly to outsiders to the conflict precisely because their
lives are not involved. Rank sees, correctly we now have to believe,
that all warfare and revolutionary struggle are simply a develop-
ment of feuding and vendettas, where the basic thing at stake is a
dramatization of the immortality account. We couldn’t understand
the obsessive development of nationalism in our time — the fantastic
bitterness between nations, the unquestioned loyalty to one’s own,
the consuming wars fought in the name of the fatherland or the
motherland — unless we saw it in this light. “Our nation” and its
“allies” represent those who qualify for eternal survival; we are
the “chosen people.” From the time when the Athenians extermi-
nated the Melians because they would not ally with them in war
to the modern extermination of the Vietnamese, the dynamic has
been the same: all those who join together under one banner are
alike and so qualify for the privilege of immortality; all those who
are different and outside that banner are excluded from the bless-
ings of eternity. 29 The vicious sadism of war is not only a testing of
God’s favor to our side, it is also a proof that the enemy is mortal:
“Look how we kill him.” As Alan Harrington so well put it, in a
remarkable book which contains the most brilliantly pungent phras-
ings of (Rankian) insights that one is ever likely to see:
Cruelty can arise from the aesthetic outrage we sometimes feel in the
presence of strange individuals who seem to be making out all right. . . .
Have they found some secret passage to eternal life? It can’t be. If those
weird individuals with beards and funny hats are acceptable, then what
about my claim to superiority? Can someone like that be my equal in
God’s eyes? Does he, that one, dare hope to live forever too — and per-
haps crowd me out? I don’t like it. All I know is, if he’s right I’m wrong.
So different and funny-looking. I think he’s trying to fool the gods with
his sly ways. Let’s show him up. He’s not very strong. For a start, see
what he’ll do when I poke him 30
Sadism naturally absorbs the fear of death, as Zilboorg points out,
because by actively manipulating and hating we keep our organism
ii4
ESCAPE FROM EVIL
absorbed in the outside world; this keeps self-reflection and the
fear of death in a state of low tension. We feel we are masters over
life and death when we hold the fate of others in our hands. As
long as we can continue shooting, we think more of killing than of
being killed. Or, as a wise gangster once put it in a movie, “When
killers stop killing they get killed.”
This is already the essence of a theory of sadism. But more than
that it is the clinical proof of the natural “wisdom” of tyrannical
leaders from the time of the divine kingships up to the present day.
In times of peace, without an external enemy, the fear that feeds
war tends to find its outlet within the society, in the hatred between
classes and races, in the everyday violence of crime, of automobile
accidents, and even the self-violence of suicide . 31 War sucks much
of this up into one fulcrum and shoots it outward to make an un-
known enemy pay for our internal sins. It is as Mumford said, but —
one final time — how rational this “irrationality.”
The Science of Man after Hitler
It should already be obvious that with observations like these on
sacrifice and scapegoating we are taking in immense areas in human
relations; when we think in these terms, we already feel quickened
in our thoughts and our pulse — we know we are onto something big.
I have lingered on guilt, sacrifice, heroism, and immortality because
they are the key concepts for the science of man in society that is
emerging in our time. And the key works for these concepts have
already been written, which is good news in the life of any aspiring
science; the only rub is that the scientific community itself has not
realized this good news, and so we have been painfully slow in
forging an agreed science of man. The application of the ideas of
guilt and sacrifice to modem sociology has been done largely by a
few men — notably Kenneth Burke and Hugh Dalziel Duncan. Let
us dwell on this critical chapter in the evolution of an authentic
science of man.
Burke recognized that guilt and expiation were fundamental
categories of sociological explanation, and he proposed a simple
The Nature of Social Evil 115
formula: guilt must be canceled in society, and it is absolved by
“victfmage.” So universal and regular is the dynamic that Burke
wondered “whether human society could possibly cohere without
symbolic victims which the individual members of the group share
in common.” He saw ' f the civic enactment of redemption through
the sacrificial victim” as the center of man’s social motivation. 32
Burke was led to the central idea of victimage and redemption
through Greek tragedy and Christianity; he saw that this funda-
mentally religious notion is a basic characteristic of any social
order.. Again we are brought back to our initial point that all culture
is in essence sacred — supernatural, as Bank put it. The miraculous-
ness of creation is after all magnified in social life; it is contained
in persons and given color, form, drama. The natural mystery of
birth, growth, consciousness, and death is taken over by society; and
as Duncan so well says, this interweaving of social form and natural
terror becomes an inextricable mystification; the individual can only
gape :in awe and guilt. 33 This religious guilt, then, is also a charac-
teristic of so-called secular societies; and anyone who would lead
a society must provide for some form of sacred absolution, regard-
less c>f the particular historical disguise that this absolution may
wear.. Otherwise society is not possible. In Burke’s generation it was
abovn all Hitler, Stalin, and Mussolini who understood this and
acted, on it.
If t:!here is one thing that the tragic wars of our time have taught
us, it iis that the enemy has a ritual role to play, by means of which
evil its redeemed. All “wars are conducted as ‘holy’ wars” 34 in a
doub’ile sense then — as a revelation of fate, a testing of divine favor,
and as a means of purging evil from the world at the same time.
This explains why we are dedicated to war precisely in its most
horrilFying aspects: it is a passion of human purgation. Nietzsche
observed that “whoever is dissatisfied with himself is always ready
to revenge himself therefore; we others will be his victims. . . . 35
But tllie irony is that men are always dissatisfied and guilty in small
and large ways, and this is what drives them to a search for purity
where all dissatisfaction can come to a head and be wiped away.
Men try to qualify for etemalization by being clean and by cleans-
ing title world around them of the evil, the dirty; in this way they
show that they are on the side of purity, even if they themselves
Il6 ESCAPE FROM EVIL
are impure. The striving for perfection reflects man’s effort to get
some human grip on his eligibility for immortality. And he can
only know if he is good if the authorities tell him so; this is why
it is so vital for him emotionally to know whether he is liked or
disliked, why he will do anything the group wants in order to
meet its standards of “good”: his eternal life depends on it. 3 ' Good
and bad relate to strength and weakness, to self-perpetuation, to
indefinite duration. And so we can understand that all ideology, as
Rank said, is about one’s qualification for eternity; and so are all
disputes about who really is dirty. The target of one’s righteous
hatred is always called “dirt”; in our day the short-hairs call the
long-hairs “filthy” and are called in turn “pigs.” Since everyone
feels dissatisfied with himself (dirty), victimage is a universal hu-
man need. And the highest heroism is the stamping out of those
who are tainted. The logic is terrifying. The psychoanalytic group-
ing of guilt, anality, and sadism is translatable in this way to the
highest levels of human striving and to the age-old problem of good
and evil.
From which we have to conclude that men have been the mid-
wives of horror on this planet because this horror alone gave them
peace of mind, made them “right” with the world. No wonder
Nietzsche would talk about “the disease called man .” 37 It seems
perverse when we put it so blatantly, yet here is an animal who
needs the spectacle of death in order to open himself to love. As
Duncan put it:
. . . as we wound and kill our enemy in the field and slaughter his
women and children in their homes, our love for each other deepens. We
become comrades in arms; our hatred of each other is being purged in
the sufferings of our enemy . 38
And even more relentlessly:
We need to socialize in hate and death, as well as in joy and love. We
do not know how to have friends without, at the same time, creating
victims whom we must wound, torture, and kill. Our love rests on hate . 38
If we talk again and shockingly about human baseness, it is
not out of cynicism; it is only to better get some kind of factual
H7
The Nature of Social Evil
purchase on our fate. We follow Freud in the belief that it is only
illusions that we have to fear; and we follow Hardy — in our epi-
graph to this book — in holding that we have to take a full look at
the worst in order to begin to get rid of illusions. Realism, even
brutal, is not cynicism. As Duncan so passionately concluded his
Nietzschean and Dostoevskian exposition of the terrifying dynamics
of purity and love, “. . . we cannot become humane until we under-
stand our need to visit suffering and death on others. . . . The
sociology of our time must begin in [such an] anguished aware-
ness. . . ,” 40 It has already begun in the work of Burke, Duncan,
Mumford, and Lifton; but its theoretical formulations were already
plentifully contained in the neglected work of Rank. From the point
of view of such a sociology, the great scientific problems of our
time have been the successful and grand social cohesions, especially
of Hitler, Stalin, and Mao. Burke and Duncan have amply de-
scribed the religious horror drama of Germany under Hitler, where
the dirty and evil Jews were purged from the world of Aryan
purity by the Nazi priesthood . 41 Buchenwald and Auschwitz were
the result of one of the most massive mystifications of history, a
religious use of man’s fundamental motives and fears. Today we
still gape in unbelief that such a holocaust was possible in our
“civilized” world, refusing to see how true it was to man’s nature
and to his ambitions to transcend that nature. Hitler’s rise to power
was based on his understanding of what people wanted and needed
most of all, and so he promised them, above everything else, heroic
victory over evil; and he gave them the living possibility of ridding
themselves temporarily of their real guilt. As many die-hard right-
ists in the U.S. today realize better than anyone else, the tragedy
of Vietnam is that it has loaded the Americans with a huge burden
of unresolvable guilt and it has not been a victory. They rightly
say that leaders who saddle a nation with such a bafflement of its
true aspirations have no right to lead. The nation represents victory
and immortality or it has no mandate to exist. It must give tangible,
straightforward victories or its credit is dissipated in the hearts of
all its citizens. The rightists rally behind the convicted war criminal
Lieut. William Calley because they cannot stand the burden of
guilt of a nonvictorious war, so they simply deny it by insisting
that he is a straightforward hero. There is no immortality without
11 8 ESCAPE FROM EVIL
guiltless victory. On these matters rightists have always been a
candid barometer of basic human urges.
It took Stalin’s purge trials to show us that the highest humanistic
ideals of socialist revolutionaries also have to be played out in a
religious drama of victimage and redemption — if one is to have a
pure and cohesive socialist society at all . 42 The Russians exiled
religious expiation but could not exile their own human nature, and
so they had to conjure up a secular caricature of religious expia-
tion. And they are still doing it: the magician-priests who give
absolution to the clean communist masses now wear the white coats
of hospital psychiatrists who transform dirty dissident victims with
the latest techniques of “secular” science. It is grotesque, but Burke
had warned us to always watch for the “secular equivalents” of the
theological formula of victimage and redemption; the scapegoat is
not a “ ‘necessary illusion’ of savages, children, and the masses,” 4 ®
but now an achievement of the “most advanced” socialist society.
Most recently Robert Jay Lifton has extended the Rankian frame-
work of analysis into a brilliant dissection of that other great social-
ist drama of redemption of our time — the one staged by Mao, the
biggest drama of all to date, yet one that uses the same time-
honored dynamics. Lifton’s analysis reveals Maoism as still another
version of age-old historical themes dating from the time of the
emergence of the very first states. Here is a reenactment of the
drama of cosmic government, with Mao as the god-king who chan-
nels sacred power to those on the side of purity and right. Those
who are not on that side fit into the now familiar formula of
“victimization . . . the need to reassert one’s own immortality,
or that of one’s group, by contrasting it with its absolute absence
[of immortality] in one’s death-tainted victim .” 44 Mao emerges as a
hero-savior who has the particular skill of defying death and giving
expiation to his followers — “a man closely attuned to the pulse of
immortality,” as Lifton put it . 45 The vehicle for immortality is, of
course, the revolution itself, the noble mission of the Chinese
masses, the mission into which one merges his entire identity and
from which he receives his apotheosis. In this cosmology it is the
people themselves who carry the “immortal revolutionary sub-
stance”; God, then, “is none other than the masses of the Chinese
people.” It is as though China herself and her staggering population
The Nature of Social Evil 119
had the life power to be immune to the normal limitations of
human existence. 46 From Lif ton’s analysis it seems that modern
China is reliving the idea of the primitive group soul which is a
sacred fount of regeneration on which the whole community can
draw so long as it remains pure. If one imagines these analogies
far-fetched, he should go to Lifton himself and see how firmly they
rest on a now well-founded tradition of social and psychological
analysis. 47
The Two Sides of Heroic Self -Expansion
In all this we see the continuity of history; each heroic apotheosis
is a variation on basic themes because man is still man. Civilization,
the rise of the state, kingship, the universal religions — all are fed
by the same psychological dynamic: guilt and the need for re-
demption. If it is no longer the clan that represents the collective
immortality pool, then it is the state, the nation, the revolutionary
cell, the corporation, the scientific society, one’s own race. Man
still gropes for transcendence, but now this is not necessarily na-
ture and God, but the SS or the CIA; the only thing that remains
constant is that the individual still gives himself with the same
humble trembling as the primitive to his totemic ancestor. The stake
is identical — immortality power — and the unit of motivation is still
the single individual and his fears and hopes. To see graphically
how constant these things have remained, we have only to tune in
on the early-morning sign-offs on American television. The message
is striking in its primitiveness: several minutes of the alternation of
a picture of the flag with that of soldiers in landing barges, combat
aircraft streaking across the sky, soldiers marching, the green fields
and hills of home, a glistening white military cemetary, again the
flag unfurled in the wind, the timeless Lincoln Memorial, and again
the firm and determined faces of soldiers marching. The unspoken
text is relentless in its assurance of vital power to each person, and
a firm place in an immortality system. How the heart must quicken
at what is suggested by these images, how the throat must choke
up with gratitude.
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ESCAPE FROM EVIL
Of course militarism and the flag hardly begin to cover the vari-
ous types of things that the person can expand into; human in-
genuity is not so limited, which explains why rich and imaginative
people often make such poor patriots. Samuel Johnson saw this
clearly when he said that patriotism was the last refuge for scoun-
drels. In our time the young are turning to forms of what Lifton
called “experiential transcendence” — the intense experience of a
feeling state which, for a little while anyway, eliminates the prob-
lem of time and death . 48 This is a variation on the historical mode
of mysticism, only in our time people can imbibe in it en masse,
helped by the modern technology of color and sound. Alan Har-
rington caught the mood of it beautifully:
By embracing the Primordial Oneness I escape death before it can hit
me. How can that shadowy menace keep an appointment in Samara
with a man whose consciousness has already been dissolved? ... In a
discotheque, the careworn self is smashed by echoing guitars and elec-
tronic shrieking, and its fragments are scattered even more finely by
showering and splitting light effects. . . . The narcotic drift will take you
to spaces beyond time and death, as will an orgy or a church organ . 49
This explains the massive attendance at rock music festivals which
the older generation has such trouble understanding. The festivals
represent a joyful triumph over the flat emptiness of modern life,
the mechanical succession of news events which carry everyone on
willy-nilly, the ticking away of life in an absurd anarchy. The
festival is the attempt by the young to reawaken a sense of the
awesome and the miraculous as they throb in full communion to
the beating of the music. As one rock music authority so well put
it, what the modern young are seeking through this is a way to
adequately express wonder, an expression that modem, secular,
mechanistic society has denied them. This kind of communion in joy
and in intensive experience is, we have to conclude, modem youth’s
heroic victory over human limitation. Yet it, too, is hardly a mod-
em invention despite the new technics which mediates it. It is a
replay of the basic Dionysian expansiveness, the submergence and
loss of identity in the transcending power of the pulsating “now”
and the frenzied group of like-minded believers.
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The Nature of Social Evil
My point is that heroic expansiveness, joy, and wonder have an
underside — finitude, guilt, and death — and we have to watch for its
expression too. After you have melted your identity into transcending,
pulsating power, what do you do to establish some kind of balance?
What kind of forceful, instrumental attitude do you summon up to
remarshal yourself and your grip on experience? One cannot live
in the trembling smallness of awe, else he will melt away. Where
is the object on which to focus one’s new self-assertion — an object
that is for most people a victim? This is what we have to be con-
stantly on guard for. The Dionysian festival reflected man’s ex-
perience in the round, and so for the masochistic loss of self there
was the corresponding sadistic affirmation of self: the Dionysian
celebrators tore apart with their bare hands and ate raw a scape-
goat or a bull to climax the ceremony. Every heroic victory is two-
sided: it aims toward merger with an absolute “beyond” in a burst
of life affirmation, but it carries within it the rotten core of death
denial in a physical body here on earth. If culture is a lie about
the possibilities of victory over death, then that lie must somehow
take its toll of life, no matter how colorful and expansive the
celebration of joyful victory may seem. The massive meetings of
the Nazi youth or those of Stalin in Red Square and Mao in Peking
literally take our breath away and give us a sense of wonder. But
the proof that these celebrations have an underside is in Auschwitz
and Siberia: these are the places where the goats are torn apart,
where the pathetic cowardliness of what it is all about on its
underside is revealed. We might say that modem heroism is some-
what out of joint compared with Dionysianism, where both aspects
of transcendence took place on the spot; modern scapegoating has
its consummation in bureaucratic forms, gas ovens, slow rotting in
prison camps. But it still is all about the real, lived terror of the
individual German, Russian, and Chinese over his own life, how-
ever coldly and matter-of-factly it may be staged, whatever the
clean and disinterested scientific methods used. Hannah Arendt in
her brilliant and controversial analysis of Adolf Eichmann showed
that he was a simple bureaucratic trimmer who followed orders
because he wanted to be liked; but this can only be the surface of
the story, we now see. Rubber-stampers sign orders for butchery
in order to be liked; but to be liked means to be admitted to the
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ESCAPE FROM EVIL
group that is elected for immortality. The ease and remoteness of
modem killing by bespectacled, colorless men seem to make it a
disinterested bureaucratic matter, but evil is not banal as Arendt
claimed: evil rests on the passionate person motive to perpetuate
oneself, and for each individual this is literally a life-and-death
matter for which any sacrifice is not too great, provided it is the
sacrifice of someone else and provided that the leader and the
group approve of it.
Whatever side of heroism we look at, one thing is certain: it is
an all-consuming activity to make the world conform to our desires.
And as far as means are concerned, we are all equally insignificant
and impotent animals trying to coerce the universe, trying to make
the world over to our own urges. The cultural lie merely continues
and supports the lie of the Oedipal causa sui project®; when it is
exposed, we literally become impotent. From which we can con-
clude that man is an animal who has to live in a lie in order to
live at all. Psychiatrists who practice in New York report that the
complaints of impotency increase when the stock market is in a
low. Conversely, potency is vigorous when the market is high, or a
“bull” market as the apt term has it. We are reminded of how
archaic man quickly killed the king as soon as he became impotent :
it is conceivable that for primitives, like Wall Streeters, actual
impotency might develop if the cultural system of denial lost its
power. All of which supports those who hold that death anxiety
always lingers under the surface and is never surely and smoothly
absorbed in the cultural hero system. How can the body ever be
surely transcended by an animal who is body and maybe nothing
but body and who fears this very thing on some level of his
awareness?
I mention these things in passing only to remind the reader of
the tragic aspect of human heroics and the naturalness of vicious
scapegoating: somebody has to pay for the way things are. This is
the meaning of the Devil in history, as many authorities have told
us. The Devil represents the body, the absolute determinism of
man’s earthly condition, and that’s why the Devil is so dangerous:
* For an elaboration of the causa sui project see The Denial of Death (New
York: The Free Press, 1973).
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The Nature of Social Evil
he reveals the reality of our situation, the fact that we can’t really
escape our earthly destiny . 50 To fight the Devil is to fight what he
stands for, and to make the Devil a scapegoat is to do away with
what he represents: the defeat of the supernatural, the negation of
the spiritual victory over body-boundedness. Hence all the vampire
stories where the blood-feasting evil one is the terrifying threat. The
truth of the vampire story, of bats, blood, and canine teeth, is the
same as the truth of the castration complex: that the causa sui
project via the body is a lie, that our bodies are really our doom;
so long as we are in them we are subject to the complete dominion
of earthly laws of blood and animality. Hence only the sign of the
cross can win out over the vampire, only the domain of invisible
spirit that promises victory over the body and death can save man.
Thus the vampire story is a perennial horror-passion play reflecting
the entire truth of the human condition and the hope beyond it.
Hence, too, the gory stories throughout history about the Jews’
appetite for Gentile children, etc.; for the Nazis the Jews were
devils, just as Mao’s adversaries were for him . 51 The Devil is the
one who prevents the heroic victory of immortality in each culture —
even the atheistic, scientific-humanist ones. On matters of spiritual
apotheosis every leader shows his basic kinship to Martin Luther,
because he has to decry the fettering of man’s glorious spirit by
the body, by personal appetite and selfishness. As Lifton so aptly
points out, Mao, in his scatological lyricism (denouncing of the
Chinese government’s subservience to the West), reminds one pre-
cisely of Luther: “If one of our foreign masters farts, it’s a lovely
perfume .” 52 The Devil always confounds the body with the ethereal
and makes the decadent capitalist world seem like socialist heaven.
Conclusion: Cultures as Styles of
Heroic Death Denial
It is fairly easy to draw the moral from all this, even though
it will be shocking to some of the older styles of doing social theory.
The continuity from the Enlightenment through Marx, Weber,
Mannheim, Veblen, and Mills is all there plain as day. The impor-
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ESCAPE FROM EVIL
tant thing about the analyses of Rank, Burke, Duncan, and Lifton
is that they reveal precisely those secular forms which the tradi-
tional religious dramas of redemption now take. It would be easy
to argue that we now have a fairly good working catalogue of the
general range of social expressions of basic human motives, and
that this represents the completion of the work of the great Max
Weber, who had already shown the social dramas of several
historical societies, both eastern and western, in the round.
But with our greater and even more tragic historical experience
which includes Hitler and Stalin, we can give the Weberian tra-
dition even more life and critical force: we can extend it from
primitive man right up to the modem revolutionary monoliths, all
the while basing it on a few universal principles of human motiva-
tion. Since there is no secular way to resolve the primal mystery
of life and death, all secular societies are lies. And since there is
no sure human answer to such a mystery, all religious integrations
are mystifications. This is the sober conclusion to ’which we seem
to be led. Each society is a hero system which promises victory
over evil and death. But no mortal, nor even a group of as many
as 700 million clean revolutionary mortals, can keep such a promise:
no matter how loudly or how artfully he protests or they protest,
it is not within man’s means to triumph over evil and death. For
secular societies the thing is ridiculous: what can “victory” mean
secularly? And for religious societies victory is part of a blind and
trusting belief in another dimension of reality. Each historical so-
ciety, then, is a hopeful mystification or a determined lie.
Many religionists have lamented the great toll that the Hitlers
and the Stalins have taken in order to give their followers the
equivalent of religious expiation and immortality; it seemed that
when man lost the frank religious dimension of experience, he be-
came even more desperate and wild; when he tried to make the
earth alone a pure paradise, he had to become even more demonic
and devilish. But when one looks at the toll of scapegoats that
religious integrations have taken, one can agree with Duncan that
religious mystifications have so far been as dangerous as any other.* 5
No world view has a claim on secure truth, much less on greater
purity — at least as it has been practiced historically in the social
world. Harrington, as usual, sums it up very colorfully:
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The Nature of Social Evil
The plotters of earthly and heavenly paradise have fought, slandered and
sabotaged one another for hundreds of years. One stands accused of un-
bridled hubris (risking divine retaliation, jeopardizing everybody’s
chances); the other of superstition (cringing before mystery); and each
finds the other obstructing the road to eternal life . 54
Dostoevsky thought that the only hope for Russia was to worship
the body of Christ and to have a contented peasantry. When we
look at the toll of Stalinism we may feel wistful, but we would
have to be able to count the toll of Dostoevsky’s solution and then
compare. We don’t have to get embroiled in any abstract arguments
because the shape of social theory is clear. If each historical society
is in some ways a lie or a mystification, the study of society becomes
the revelation of the lie. The comparative study of society becomes
the assessment of how high are the costs of this lie. Or, looked
at from another way, cultures are fundamentally and basically
styles of heroic death denial. We can then ask empirically, it seems
to me, what are the costs of such denials of death, because we
know how these denials are structured into styles of life.® These
costs can be tallied roughly in two ways: in terms of the tyranny
practiced within the society, and in terms of the victimage practiced
against aliens or “enemies” outside it . 55
By assessing the cost of scapegoating and by trying to plan for
alternative ideals that will absorb basic human fears, we seem to
have brought up to date the Marxist critique of the human eva-
sion of freedom; we seem to have finally a secure grip on the
social problem of death denial. In the Marxist view death is an
ideology, as the title of an essay by Marcuse has it. This means
that although death is a natural fear, this fear has always been
used and exploited by the established powers in order to secure
their domination. Death is a “culture mechanism” that was utilized
by societies from primitive times on as a means of social control
and repression, to help an elite enforce its will on a meek and
• Franz Borkenau talks about cultures as death-denying, death-defying, and
death-accepting, alternating with each other in history. But this kind of classi-
fication seems to me to refer more to different types of transcendence; one
still has to ask how self-perpetuation is secured in each culture — at least for
the masses, if not for the few intellectual formulators. See his “The Concept
of Death,” The Twentieth Century, 1955, 157:317.
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ESCAPE FROM EVIL
compliant populace. The definition of culture, after all, is that it
continues the causa sui project of the transcendence of death; and
so we see the fatality and naturalness of human slavishness; man
helps secure his own domination by the tribe, the polis, the state,
the gods, because of his fears . 58
When we phrase the problem in these terms, we can see how
immense it is and how far it extends beyond our traditional ways
of doing science. If you talk about heroics that cost mountains of
human life, you have to find out why such heroics are practiced
in a given social system: who is scapegoating whom, what social
classes are excluded from heroism, what there is in the social
structure that drives the society blindly to self-destructive heroics,
etc. Not only that, but you have to actually set up some kind of
liberating ideal, some kind of life-giving alternative to the thought-
less and destructive heroism; you have to begin to scheme to give
to man an opportunity for heroic victory that is not a simple reflex
of narcissistic scapegoating. You have to conceive of the possibility
of a nondestructive yet victorious social system. It was precisely
this problem that was designed by William James over two gen-
erations ago, in his famous essay “The Moral Equivalent of War,”
but needless to say we have done nothing about it even on a con-
ceptual level, much less on an active social level. Little wonder
that things are in a mess.
One of the reasons social scientists have been slow in getting
around to such designs has been the lack of an adequate and agreed
general theory of human nature. James didn’t have one, and it has
taken us this long to begin to sort out the real legacy of Freud.
Modem Marxism still does not show man in the round and so still
seems naive to mature scholars in its easy optimism. Even the in-
jection of Freudian dogma into Marxism, in the work of Marcuse,
is still too clumsy a commentary on the human condition. I will
sum up a critique of Marcuse toward the close of this book; but
right now it is important to direct the reader in the quest for an
agreed general theory of human nature to exactly what cripples the
autonomy of the individual. The Enlightenment hope for free and
autonomous men was never bom; and one reason is that we have
not known until after Freud the precise dynamics that makes men
so tragically slavish. Why are all enjoinders to us to take command
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The Nature of Social Evil
of our fears, to stand upright, to build a science in society that
reflects rational control — why are these so impossibly utopian? We
have already in this book seen most of the reasons for this. It re-
mains now to put the last technical piece into place. This should
enable us to finally piece together the legacy of Freud for social
science.
Transference
Freud saw that the patient in analysis developed intense at-
tachment to the person of the analyst. The analyst became the core
of his life, the object of his every thought, a complete fascination.
Seeing that this was an uncanny phenomenon, Freud explained it
as transference — that is, the transference of feelings the patient once
had towards his parents to the new power figure in his life, the
doctor. Expanding his findings into a theoretical framework using
transference as a universal mechanism, Freud directed his interests
to the psychology of leadership and produced his Group Psychology
and the Analysis of the Ego. Here, in less than 100 pages, he ex-
plained why men were so sheeplike when they functioned in
groups — how they abandoned their egos to the leader, identified
with his powers just as they did once before when as dependent
children they yielded to their parents.
Gradually, through the works of Adler, Rank, Fromm, Jung, and
others, we have seen a shift in emphasis to a more comprehensive
view of transference, building on Freud. So that today we can say
that transference is a reflex of the fatality of the human condition.
Transference to a powerful other takes care of the overwhelming-
ness of the universe. Transference to a powerful other handles the
fear of life and death. To avoid repetition of myself, I refer the
interested reader to “The Spell Cast by Persons,” a complete chapter
on transference in The Denial of Death.
CHAPTER NINE
Social Theory:
The Merger of Marx and Freud
Let us take a lingering look over our shoulder to see where we have
come. Rousseau, as we saw in Chapter Three, made an important
beginning in trying to explain the problems we have been dealing
with in the last five chapters — how oppression, degradation, and
large-scale misery and evil arose out of a relatively harmless primi-
tive human state. But Rousseau’s thesis, like that of traditional
Marxist theory, does not take sufficient account of the psychological
dimension of man’s unfreedom. This we will take up further in
this chapter, and we will place the psychological aspect right where
it belongs: at the heart of social theory.
Conservatives, who never took Rousseau seriously except as a
madman, never agreed with Marxian theory either. As Edmund
Burke and others who shuddered at the French Revolution under-
stood, it still left human nature intact, and so had to again bring
about a relatively deplorable and tragic state of affairs. There was
a long current of disagreement in the nineteenth century about
many aspects of Marx’s theory about primitive communism, about
the origin of the state in conquest, etc., but it all came to rest on
one problem alone: the nature of man. The Marxists thought that
man was unfree because he was coerced by the power of others;
the conservatives said he was unfree because of innate differences
in men. Some men worked harder, some were stronger, some had
more talent and skill, hence things were naturally unequal. People
needed to work together, to make and gather the fruits of uneven
talents, and so society by its nature was a necessary and willing
agreement to share unequally among unequals. If inequalities were
greater in modem times, well, so were the fruits which most people
could enjoy; greater, too, were the differences in skill, etc. So the
conservatives were relatively free of the moral outrage and sense of
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Social Theory: The Merger of Marx and Freud 129
injustice which animated the radicals and still animates them. But
they themselves were profoundly outraged by the cost in human
lives and misery of the revolutions that were supposed to set things
straight, and that only seemed to make man as much of a slave
and a cipher as he was before, if not more so. In czarist times a
political prisoner might bribe a jailer, but in Soviet Russia today
no dissenter can bribe the white-frocked state psychiatrist out of
plugging him into the wall.
If we shudder at the thought of the total determinism of modem
tyranny, we must admit that the conservative case has weight, just
as it had in the nineteenth century, especially since we today know
fairly accurately how historical inequality came about — at least in
a theoretical way. And we know that this process started long
before the rise of the state: in fact, it was inherent in primitive
societies themselves, as we saw in Chapter Three — even in the most
egalitarian ones, in hunting and gathering societies, the simplest
known. These societies knew no distinctions of rank, little or no
authority of one individual over another; they had very simple
possessions and so there was no real difference in wealth; property
was distributed equally. Yet even on this level individual differences
were recognized and already formed the germ of social differenti-
ation which would gradually lead to distinctions of rank, accumu-
lated wealth, hereditary privilege, and the eventual rise and en-
trenchment of the exploitative state.
To return to our discussion of Rousseau in Chapter Three, it
would seem that, with its emphasis on differences in personal quali-
ties as the largest factor in inequality among men, his “Discourse” 1
supports the conservative argument — or would support it, rather, if
the essay were not filled with errors and fantastic conjectures. I
am not going to burden the reader with an assessment of Rousseau’s
essay, picking out its brilliant insights or its ludicrous ones based
on a fanciful anthropology, but will only cite two crucial points.
First, the basic fallacy: that there was a time in early social evolu-
tion when men were not influenced by differences in personal
qualities. Rousseau is able to maintain this because of a truly fan-
tastic sketch of social evolution, in which he sees man at first as an
isolated animal, not even living in a family group. Gradually family
life evolved, and then tribal life, and it was at that time that “each
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ESCAPE FROM EVIL
one began to look at the others and to want to be looked at him-
self, and public esteem had a value .” 2 His famous idea on the
“state of nature” begins, then, with the epoch of the “savage” who
“lives within himself.” It ends when man came out of this state
into that of society; he became “sociable man, always outside him-
self,” who “knows how to live only in the opinion of others.” And
so Rousseau can conclude that man’s downfall does not begin in
the “original state of man,” but “that it is the spirit of society
alone, and the inequality it engenders, which thus change and alter
all our natural inclinations” 3 — that is, our “natural” solitariness,
our “natural immunity” to the personal qualities of others.”
The second point of fantasy in Rousseau’s essay is easier to under-
stand because it is based on fact: he saw no accumulation of goods
in the primitive societies of his time, and so he thought that
primitive man wanted “only to live and remain idle” and refused
to work to build up an accumulation of goods. Accumulated goods
in civilized society were a visible burden on those who slaved for
them, and they were a direct cause of social injustice; and so Rous-
seau could say that the primitive state was one of delightful laziness
and freedom . 4 But we know this is the wrong conclusion: rather,
hunters and gatherers cannot accumulate a surplus because of
primitive technology and subsistence economy, not because they do
not want the surplus. They are already eager to accumulate a
surplus of wives and to gain special privileges for hunting lands,
” There is no point in confronting this thesis with the data of evolution which
show that man must have always lived in some kind of family group just like
his primate ancestors. Or with the data of social psychology which show that
self-esteem is artificialized right from the maternal milk and the first words
the child learns. Or in pointing out how conveniently blurred Rousseau’s expo-
sition is: he uses the word “savage” for those at the first stage of the state
of nature and those at the last, when they are already — by his analysis —
“sociable” men and hence corrupted. The Caribs that he lauds as “savages”
were hardly in a state of nature, since they were already “sociable” men who
knew full well about such things as “power and reputation.” (Jean-Jacques
Rousseau, The First and Second Discourses, 1755 [New York: St. Martin’s,
1964], ed. R. D. Masters, p. 179. ) But by this elastic use of the word “savage”
Rousseau could talk about an ideal man that predates society, and he could
also use the primitive societies of his time as an ideal criticism of his own
western society. So Rousseau could blame natural inequality for causing wealth
and corruption, and he could decry inequality at the same time as an artificial
creation of advanced social life. In this way, he moved imperceptibly from
the psychology of inequality to the historical injustice of it.
Social Theory: The Merger of Marx and Freud 131
etc. The drive for self-expansion is there, but there are neither op-
portunities nor the world picture into which to fit it. Or, as we
would say with Brown, the state of nature is not idle, it is anal like
all other human states.
Simce Rousseau wrote, we have learned something from the vast
collections of data on primitive man: that if he was not in bondage
to the authority of living persons, he was at the utter mercy of the
power of spirits. Because of man’s fear of life and death, the tribe
was in hock to the spirits of the dead. Or, if in some tribes men
did not seem to fear death, it was because they had transmuted
this fear by immersing themselves in the group ideology, whatever
it may have been. Now this leads us to a completely opposite
position from Rousseau, even on his fanciful sketch of social evo-
lution: that is, in the state of nature the solitary individual is
already unfree, even before he gets to society; he carries within
himsielf the bondage that he needs in order to live. We know today
that 'Rousseau used the idea of the “state of nature” as an explora-
tory hypothesis to be able to imagine how life might be in a state
of freedom from social coercion. We know too what a powerful
critical tool this idea has been, and how it has helped us to high-
light: the state as a structure of domination from Marx all the way
up to Mumford. But the fact is that man never was free and cannot
be from his own nature as the starting point. Rare individuals may
achieve freedom at the end of years of experience and effort; and
they can do this best under conditions of advanced civilization
such as those that Rousseau scorned.
An we have seen, each human type seeks to perpetuate itself if
it has the power to do so; it tries to expand and aggrandize itself
in the ways open to it. But on primitive levels the power figures
are always suspect precisely because of their dangerous power;
henCe the constant anxiety about witches, etc. It was Frazer who
showed that the early tribal embodiments of magical power were
ready scapegoats for the people — not only witches but priest-kings
too. s No wonder that when kings later got real power to work
their will on the helpless masses, they used that power ruthlessly;
in this perspective the divine king of the great slave state of the
Mediterranean basin is the earlier shaman come of age and of
unlimited power. 6 We might say that instead of themselves being
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ESCAPE FROM EVIL
scapegoats, they used the entire people as their own sacrificial ani-
mals, marching them off to military holocausts at will. The logic
of this kind of turning of the tables is almost inevitable. As Canetti
has so beautifully argued, what each person wants is to be a
survivor, to cheat death and to remain standing no matter how
many others have fallen around him. In tribal society the people
are the survivors if they can be, even at the expense of an occasional
power figure who detaches himself too much from the general level
of safe mutuality and symbiosis. In the later tyrannical state, it
was only natural that the king reverse this procedure — that he
prove himself to be the survivor no matter how many of his people
died, or even because they died, as we saw in Chapter Eight . 7
Seen in this way, history is the saga of the working out of one’s
problems on others — harmlessly when one has no power (or when
the "weapon” is art), viciously when one has the power and when
the weapons are the arsenals of the total state. This saga continues
in modern times but in forms which disguise the coercion and
emphasize the social agreement, but the dialogue is the same: in-
dividuals skilled in focusing power, and masses hungry for it and
fearful of it. Each society elevates and rewards leaders who are
talented at giving the masses heroic victory, expiation for guilt,
relief of personal conflicts. It doesn’t matter how these are achieved:
magical religious ritual, magical booming stock markets, magical
heroic fulfillment of five-year plans, or mana-charged military mega-
machines — or all together. What counts is to give the people the
self-expansion in righteousness that they need. The men who have
power can exercise it through many different kinds of social and
economic structures, but a universal psychological hunger underpins
them all; it is this that locks people and power figures together
in a life-and-death contract.
The Nature of Man
The question of the origins of inequality is only half of the
problem of a sophisticated Marxist philosophy of history. The other
half is that Rousseau’s argument with Hobbes has never been
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Social Theory: The Merger of Marx and Freud
satisfactorily settled. The Marxists have said, with Rousseau, that
human nature is a blank slate, neutral, even good; evil exists because
of social institutions that encourage it, because of social classes and
the hate, envy, competition, degradation, and scapegoating that
stem from them; change society and man’s natural goodness will
flower. Not so, say the conservatives, and they point for proof at
those revolutionary societies which have abolished social class but
which continue to express personal and social evil; evil, then, must
be in the heart of the creature; the best that social institutions can
do is to keep it blunted; and social institutions that already ef-
fectively do this without excessive repression and within legal safe-
guards for individual rights — why, such social institutions should
not be changed. So argue the conservatives.
This question has been the central one of the science of man,
and as such the knottiest in its whole career; thus it is logical that
it is the last problem to be solved. I myself have been coming back
to it again and again for a dozen years now, and each time I
thought there was a clear solution I later discovered that vital things
had been left unsaid. At first it seemed to me that Rousseau had
already won the argument with Hobbes: had he said that evil is a
robust child? Then, as Rousseau argued, children are clumsy, blus-
tering organisms who must take some toll of their environment,
who seek activity and self-expansion in an innocent way, but who
cannot yet control themselves. Their intentions are not evil, even
if their acts cause damage. In this view, man is an energy-converting
organism who must exert his manipulative powers, who must dam-
age his world in some ways, who must make it uncomfortable for
others, etc., by his own nature as an active being. He seeks self-
expansion from a very uncertain power base. Even if man hurts
others, it is because he is weak and afraid, not because he is con-
fident and cruel. Rousseau summed up this point of view with the
idea that only the strong person can be ethical, not the weak one.
Later I agreed too with the Marxists, that hate and violent
aggression could be developed in man as a special kind of cultural
orientation, something people learned to do in order to be big
and important — as some primitive tribes learned warfare and won
social esteem because of their cruelty to enemies, etc. It was not, as
Freud had imagined, that man had instincts of hate and aggression,
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ESCAPE FROM EVIL
but rather that he could easily be molded in that way by the
society which rewarded them. The thing that characterized man
was his need for self-esteem, and he would do anything his society
wanted in order to earn it.
From this point of view, even scapegoating and the terrible toll
it has taken historically seemed to be explainable in Rousseau’s
terms: the thing that man wanted most was to be part of a close
and loving ingroup, to feel at peace and harmony with others of
his kind. And to achieve this intimate identification it was necessary
to strike at strangers, pull the group together by focusing it on
an outside target. So even Hugh Duncan’s analysis of the sacrificial
ravages of the Nazis could be approached in terms of neutral mo-
tives or even altruistic ones: love, harmony, unity. And Hannah
Arendt’s famous analysis of Eichmann would also fit in with this:
here was a simple bureaucrat who wanted only to be admired and
rewarded for a job efficiently done and who wielded his rubber
stamp on the death of millions with the nonchalance of a postal
clerk. We could even, as we have seen, subsume this under the
Agape motive: man wants to merge with a larger whole, have
something to dedicate his existence to in trustfulness and in hu-
mility; he wants to serve the cosmic powers. The most noble hu-
man motive, then, would cause the greatest damage because it
would lead men to find their highest use as part of an obedient
mass, to give their complete devotion and their lives to their leaders.
Arthur Koestler, who has one of the best flairs for comprehending
the motives of modern men, recently reaffirmed this; in his opinion
it is not aggressive drives that have taken the greatest toll in
history, but rather “unselfish devotion,” “hyper-dependence com-
bined with suggestibility” — the very things discussed in the final
pages of the last chapter. In Koestler’s view, man is less driven by
adrenalin than he is drugged by symbols, by cultural belief systems,
by abstractions like flags and anthems: “Wars are fought for
words. . . ,” s Again, Rousseau would be vindicated.
He would also be supported by Erich Fromm’s lifelong study of
aggression, where he shows that much of it is due to the way
children are brought up and the kind of life experiences people
have. On this view, the most twisted and vicious people would be
those who have been most deprived, most cheated of love, warmth,
i35
Social Theory: The Merger of Marx and Freud
self-realization. Dr. Strangelove would be the paradigm of the
kind of mechanical coldness and life frustration which leads to
world destruction . 9 Again, this is a pure Marxist view: changing
the life-denying institutions of modem society would enable a new
type of human being to take shape . 10 The hope of the Enlighten-
ment in its full development is represented by Fromm: to show
clinically what prevents self-reliant men. This has been the burden
of all of Fromms work: to argue for the ideal of autonomy while
showing precisely what hinders it in the interplay of individual
psychology and society. In this way the whole historical problem
of slavishness is attacked. People were always ready to yield their
wills, to worship the hero, because they were not given a chance
for developing initiative, stability, and independence, said the great
nineteenth-century Russian sociologist Nikolai Mikhailovsky . 11 Em-
erson also made this a central teaching of his whole life, holding
that man was still a tool of others because he had not developed
self-reliance, full and independent insides. Fromm argues that only
in this way could man get some kind of even keel, some sort of
inner gyroscope that would keep him from alternating eternally
between the poles of sadism and masochism.
Contra Rousseau
So much, then, for a sketch of insights into the problem of
aggression in human life. As I said, insights like these seemed to
me to cover the problem, yet something vital was always left un-
said. It was not until I confronted the work of Rank, and then
Brown, that the gap could be filled. Now I think the matter can
be pushed to a comprehensive conclusion, that we have a general
theory of human evil. Evil is caused by all the things we have
outlined, plus the one thing they have left out, the driving impetus
that underlies them all: mans hunger for righteous self-expansion
and perpetuation. No wonder it has taken us so long to pull all
the fragmentary insights together, to join the views of both sides
on the nature of man. The greatest cause of evil included all human
motives in one giant paradox. Good and bad were so inextricably
ESCAPE FROM EVIL
136
mixed that we couldn’t make them out; bad seemed to lead to
good, and good motives led to bad. The paradox is that evil comes
from man’s urge to heroic victory over evil. The evil that troubles
man most is his vulnerability; he seems impotent to guarantee the
absolute meaning of his life, its significance in the cosmos. He as-
sures a plenitude of evil, then, by trying to make closure on his
cosmic heroism in this life and this world. This is exactly what
Rank meant in the epigraph I have used for Chapter Seven: all the
intolerable sufferings of mankind result from man’s attempt to make
the whole world of nature reflect his reality, his heroic victory; he
thus tries to achieve a perfection on earth, a visible testimonial to
his cosmic importance; but this testimonial can only be given con-
clusively by the beyond, by the source of creation itself which alone
knows man’s value because it knows his task, the meaning of his
life; man has confused two spheres, the visible and whatever is
beyond, and this blindness has permitted him to undertake the
impossible — to extend the values of his limited visible sphere over
all the rest of creation, whatever forms it may take. The tragic
evils of history, then, are a commensurate result of a blindness and
impossibility of such magnitude.
This explains at the same time the motives that we left unsaid
in our sketch. Hobbes was right as well as Rousseau: man is a
robustly active creature; activity alone keeps him from going crazy.
If he bogs down and begins to dwell on his situation, he risks
releasing the neurotic fear repressed into his unconscious — that he
is really impotent and will have no effect on the world. So he
frantically drives himself to see his effects, to convince himself and
others that he really counts. This alone is enough to cause evil all
by itself: an energetic organism with personal anxieties about his
powers. Where is human energy directed if not at objects — human
objects most of the time? In other words, man must take out his
personal problems on a transference object in one way or another;
as psychiatrists now put it, man’s whole life is a series of “games”
enmeshing himself with others, reflexively and drivenly for the most
part, and according to some scenario of power. The playwright
Eugene Ionesco summed up what he thought was the real problem
of these games in this lament: “As long as we are not assured of
immortality, we shall never be fulfilled, we shall go on hating each
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Social Theory : The Merger of Marx and Freud
other in spite of our need for mutual love .” 12 The most general
statement we could make is that at the very least each person
“appropriates” the other in some way so as to perpetuate himself.
In this sense, “styles of life” are styles of appropriation of the other
to secure one’s righteous self-perpetuation. We might say that there
is a natural and built-in evil in social life because all interaction
is mutual appropriation. We saw a direct example of this in the
relation of the leader to the group. Gurus feed on disciples while
the disciples are incorporating them; social life seems at times like
a science-fiction horror story, with everyone mutually gobbling each
other like human spiders.
Historically we saw how this worked in the dialogue between
masses and power figures; but we also saw how human energy and
fear created evil on the simplest levels of social organization. We
talked mostly about spirit-power motives and guilt, but sometimes
it was more simple and direct: it could be a matter of sheer physical
appetite. Some tribes loved the taste of human flesh and incor-
porated captive men, women, and children with joy and gusto, with
simple stomach motives, we might say — as in Melanesia and among
some South American tribes. Sometimes men went to war out of
personal frustration in the tribe, to work off sexual jealousy and
grief, or even simple boredom . 13 Life on primitive levels could be
monotonous, and warfare was often the main source of new ex-
perience, travel, real stimulation. In fact, on the primitive level it
is almost transparent that warfare was a “game” for appropriating
others and enmeshing one’s life with them; we see this clearly
among the Plains Indians, where warfare was often really a kind of
athletic contest between tribes. But organismic urges are by their
nature sadistic, and primitive man often wreaked evil on a captured
enemy because of his desire to gloat and strut; he tortured to
affirm himself, to increase his own sense of importance by humili-
ating others. And so we see that even without spiritual motives,
without otherworldly ambitions of any kind, man causes evil as an
organism by enjoying his feeling of animal power. Again, this is
what Hobbes saw, that sheer energy causes evil.
My point in lingering on this is to show that we can have no
psychology of evil unless we stress the driving personal motives
behind man’s urge to heroic victory. It may seem on the surface
ESCAPE FROM EVIL
138
that empty, passive, disinterested people are led like sheep to
perform vicious acts, that man easily loses his judgment in the
crowd, that he gets carried away by numbers, by shouts, by cleverly
phrased slogans and colorful banners — this we might call the “im-
pressionable spectator” theory of aggression . 14 No doubt there is
considerable stimulus given to man by the size and enthusiasm of
the group around him. After all, he worships power and has to
respond to the obvious power of numbers, thrill to the spectacle
of masses; it is visible proof that nature favors man if she has made
his kind multiply so; she seems on the side of his victory. Another
thing, which as Buber saw is that man is stimulated to believe in
his heroic destiny by the sight of another human face: it shows
the miracle of creation shining out of man, and the fact that this
miracle has deep in its eyes and in its head the same beliefs as
you, gives you the feeling that your very beliefs are supported by
natural creation. Little wonder that the sight and feel of thousands
of such miracles moving together with you gives such absolute
righteous conviction.
So there is no argument about the fact of mass enthusiasm; the
question is how important it is as a cause of aggression. Konrad
Lorenz thinks it is perhaps the most important cause , 16 but Freud
had already downgraded it in his confrontation of Le Bon and
Trotter, the early theorists of “mental contagion” and the “herd
mind .” 16 Freud asked the question, Why the contagion from the
herd? and he found the motive in the person and not in the char-
acter of the herd. We know how mobs can be stopped by stopping
their leaders, or how panic breaks out when the leader is killed;
Freud had explained how the mob identifies with the leader. But
beyond that we also saw that man brings his motives in with him
when he identifies with power figures. He is suggestible and sub-
missive because he is waiting for the magical helper. He gives in
to the magic transformation of the group because he wants relief
of conflict and guilt. He follows the leader’s initiatory act because
he needs priority magic so that he can delight in holy aggression.
He moves in to kill the sacrificial scapegoat with the wave of the
crowd, not because he is carried along by the wave, but because
he likes the psychological barter of another life for his own: “You
die, not me.” The motives and the needs are in men and not in
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Social Theory: The Merger of Marx and Freud
situations or surroundings.® It is true, as Koestler affirms, that man’s
urge to self-transcendence, his devotion to a cause, has made more
butchery than private aggressiveness in history, and that the deva-
stating group hatred is fed by the love of its members, their willing-
ness even to die in its name . 17 We know that as soon as primitives
developed identifiable gods and a large social conglomerate to give
their loyalty to, their own natural sadistic appetites were translated
into the large-scale sacrifices of others that we see in history: one
no longer looked for a skull to eat the brains from, or to shrink
for magic power, or to plant in the ground facing the enemy so
as to mock him — one now couldn’t get enough skulls for paving
the temple floor, as in Polynesia or West Africa. But Koestler’s line
of reasoning leads us to a group psychology that would be based
only on noble human hopes and not on animal fears — the fact is
that the primitive already took the heads of others for his own
enhancement, of whatever petty and personal kind. It is true that
Eichmann felt physically sick on the one occasion when he actually
watched the deadly gas at work, which proves that he was not
personally a sadist 18 — but does not prove that he had no personal
stake in the killing. As Freud taught us once and for all, men are
torn in two by the contradictions that result from their needs and
not by what they innocently get caught up in. And as Rank added,
when they are at their most sheepish and submissive, they are
giving vent to the Agape urge in their nature; when they twist and
turn to please the leader and the group, they are trying to qualify
for absolute goodness and purity so as to be worthy of being
included in their transcendence. The individual gives himself to the
group because of his desire to share in its immortality; we must
say, even, that he is willing to die in order not to die.
Another way of looking at this is to say that the basic general
motive of man — his need for self-esteem, for a feeling of primary
value — is not a neutral vessel. True, its contents vary with each
* As to the question whether leaders or thegroup influences these motives
more, wewould have to study the matter along thelines that Redl developed:
it would probably depend on whether the heroic cause had a definite form
and continuity which would be felt by the members independently of a par-
ticular leader (say, the Allied cause in World War II) or whether the leader
himself gave form and continuity to the cause, embodied it and represented it
in his own person (as did Hitler and Napoleon).
140 ESCAPE FROM EVIL
individual and with each society; people learn different ways of
feeling warm self-value. I myself have written and argued that the
self-esteem motive is elastic and neutral, but I now see that this is
not quite so. True, there are no instincts that absolutely determine
when people should feel good about themselves. But self-esteem
is equivalent to “righteousness” or feeling “right.” Which means
that self-esteem is based on an active passion: man cannot feel right
unless he lives the heroic victory over evil, the assurance of im-
mortality. From the beginning, then, the self-esteem is loaded with
this task universally, and given its form by how it resolves this task.
Which, of course, is another way of saying that the self-esteem is
based on the cultural continuation of the causa sui project in the
child. This is how it has always been understood, only now we
add that the character of this causa sui project is definite and in-
flexible: the securing of immortality (in whichever way this is
understood by the individual and the society).
Along with this we have to make an important addition to
Fromm's approach to aggression. It is true that frustrated, deprived,
weak, unindividuated people commit aggression very readily; clini-
cal records are eloquent on this. It is true too that there are
mechanical people who fear life, who need to control things with a
secure sense of power, who prefer inanimate objects to living ones,
etc. Fromm calls them “necrophiles,” or lovers of death, in opposi-
tion to “biophiles,” or lovers of life. This is a valuable distinction
in character structures because it helps us to focus on different ways
of bringing up children which might lead to one or the other
general orientation — to a love of life which develops sentiments of
warm humanity or to a “syndrome of decay” which stifles these
sentiments. If we could, we would certainly want to avoid raising
generations of young who respect computers more than they do
others. Fromm says that one explanation of the fact that the world
is now bordering on nuclear destruction is the widespread preva-
lence of a modem Homo mechanicus. It may be, he says, that
people do not fear total destruction because they do not love life,
or are indifferent to it, or even are attracted to death, fascinated
by the prospect of total destruction . 19
From all we know, I think it would be nearer the truth to talk
about a cultural type of man who earns his immortality from