Emotional structures

I'm almost finished with philosopher Robert C. Solomon's The Passions: The Myth and Nature of Human Emotion (1977). I feel like I did as I neared the end of Ken Wilber's Sex, Ecology, Spirituality--I will undoubtedly read this book again, or at least return to many passages, as it is so full of new ideas and perspectives for me; and that it is providing me with a framework that I have already started to use in my life to great success. Emotions have long confused me, and Solomon has provided me with some fresh understanding. With each emotion he discusses, he has shown me something I never noticed or considered in approaching that emotion in my life. I intend to write about the book from several angles, but I can start off with this.

Solomon's basic thesis is this: "An emotion is a basic judgment about our Selves and our place in the world, the projection of the values and ideals, structures and mythologies, according to which we live and through which we experience our lives" (185). Essentially, he contrasts this view of emotion with what he calls the "Myth of the Passions," which is our traditional and common sense view of the emotions as "irrational," "just feelings," "pressures to be released," "intrusions," "obstacles to reason," and perhaps most importantly, "out of our control." He argues that we create our emotions, habitually, over time, as judgments that constitute our subjective world. They are intimately connected with our beliefs, opinions, and reasoning. In his model, emotions have their own logic and are inherently rational, with the primary goal of contributing to our dignity and self-esteem (but they are not all equally rational--some are "life-denying" like resentment, others are "life-affirming" like love). Even emotions that are inherently interpersonal, like love or admiration, include a strategy to maximize our self-esteem, even if we are also trying to maximize the self-esteem and welfare of someone else, like a loved one or a friend. Emotions are also the structures of our world--they hold it together and create for us meaning and significance. And, a point that he emphasizes constantly, we are responsible for them, for they are our own creation, whether consciously or not. Again, the theory is complex, but these are some of the basic points. 

 I'd also like to introduce a term Solomon coins, which is useful in discussing the subjectivity of emotions: surreality, from the French ("reality plus"). Surreality refers to the “reality” that is created by subjectivity, in particular human subjectivity, in contrast to “The Reality” which is the objective world. Surreality is my world, reality is the world. Surreality is “reality plus” because it is infused with the particular beliefs, habits, and emotions of the individual to create meaning and significance within the objective world. Everyone lives within their own surreality (and surrealities can be and are shared intersubjectively; a culture is a shared surreality; so is a family, and so is any human relationship), and that is their perspective on the world. Solomon argues that this perspective is constituted fundamentally of our emotions, along with our beliefs, concepts, etc.

So...

Regarding the discussion here, I'd like to return to the relationship between philosophical "problems" and the notions of obstacles, shelters, and structures. I wrote about Marías' "pointing out that something--a situation, a concept, an attitude--is only a problem if it is perceived as an obstacle." I gave the example of someone's religious beliefs providing a shelter, a structure, for their subjective world, their surreality. Religious belief is deeply entwined with emotion (faith and worship in particular), and, as Solomon argues, emotions constitute the structures of our world. For many people, faith and worship are two of the strongest, most definitive emotions of their lives, and thus are fundamental structures of their surrealities, along with the relationship with God that accompanies the emotions. Similarly, the depth of love people can reach in matrimony provides similar foundation and structure. 

Solomon argues that each emotion has its own inherent logic and structure, but each holds the same goal: the maximization of dignity and self-esteem. Consider anger: "The key to anger is its judgment of indictment and accusation. Anger is a judgment of personal offense. . . . Its judgmental nature is thus the most explicit of the emotions, with oneself as the court in which indictment and argument, verdict and sentence (but not necessarily the carrying out of the sentence), are all explicit. Anger is usually direct and explicit in its projection of our personal values and expectations on the world. Anger, whether expressed or not, is our insistence upon our ideals, even when that insistence is based far more on self-assertiveness or obstinacy than on any commitment to the ideals as such." Thus anger constitutes a particular judgment of someone else's action, which involves a perceived personal offense on the part of the angered party. It is clear how its "logic" is related to the goal, if we agree with Solomon, of maximizing dignity and self-esteem. We are offended because someone has violated one of our ideals, whether it is a "universal" moral ideal or a personal one. 

Things start to get interesting when we consider the fact that anger often serves the purpose of reminding us of what we believe to be true, like "I deserve to treated with respect," and can even reinforce our beliefs and ideals. This is also apparent when anger is protracted over long periods of time, like months or years. We sometimes describe the process of "holding on" to anger, or referring to it as "deep-seated." Why do we hold on? Sometimes, we want or need to hold on because this a fundamental structure of our surreality, and we may not even realize that we are holding onto it. 

Consider hatred. One of the many fascinating aspects of the book is Solomon's emphasis on the "mythology" of the different emotions. Hatred is a good example. We are familiar with the notion of one's "nemesis," from superhero comics for example. Hatred is a fundamental aspect of the nemesis relationship, but we often, paradoxically, witness a sort of "necessity" to the relationship, as if one party wouldn't be quite the same if it were not for the intense hatred of the other. The relationships in superhero comics sometimes turn on this often humorous paradox, almost likening hatred to a certain form of love. The peculiarity of the nemesis relationship is itself a structure. Solomon points to several of its aspects: mutual responsibility between the two haters ("You can't really hate someone who is indifferent to you (rather resent him)"); mutual respect (very apparent in superhero mythology); and, surprisingly, intimacy. Often, two people who are antagonists possess a certain intimacy with each other, which can account for their mutual respect. They know what the other is capable of. 

Back to the idea of a structure/shelter/obstacle. We sometimes say things like "I live in fear of . . ." or "He is harboring resentment towards . . ." or we feel stuck in certain emotional habits. The language here is telling--we often conceive of emotions in these terms. Returning to Marías, he points out the ambiguity of the structures that are composed of our concepts and beliefs--taking on the form of shelters or obstacles depending on everything else that is going on in our lives. This ambiguity is mirrored in our emotional structures, which, again, are not as separate from the structures created by our beliefs and opinions as we might assume--someone's deep-seated anger (which usually turns into resentment) may feel both like a shelter, allowing one to condemn a certain person with the "magisterial" (to use Solomon's term) authority that anger confers, safe within the confines of the resentment. But the shelter can also feel like a prison.

(There is an interesting connection between these ideas I'm playing around with and the mystical accounts of St. John of the Cross and St. Theresa, both of whom describe their mystical journeys with God in terms of physical structures like houses, castles, and rooms.) Also, the ambiguity can be seen in the inadequacy of the "positive/negative" view of the emotions.

There is also the matter of emotional and psychological defensiveness, which can be likened to a particular kind of structure--a fortress. Defensiveness and its opposite, intimacy, are two subjects of interest in Solomon's book.

What interests me about the connection between Marias' idea and Solomon's ideas are the mechanisms of surreality--how our subjective worlds are created, built, structured, and the roles played by emotions, beliefs, opinions, assumptions (e.g. Charles Tart), prejudices, etc. This is something I'd like to keep fleshing out.