A few thoughts and ideas on kindness

“I think probably kindness is my number one attribute in a human being. I’ll put it before any of the things like courage or bravery or generosity or anything else…….  .To be kind – it covers everything, to my mind.” Roald Dahl

“When whole groups fail to care, cultures of hate, retribution and vengeance can be created that reproduce the traumatic conditions of their own making. There is less chance of the kind of citizenly care that provides a bulwark against political corruption, unbridled market forces or religious fundamentalism.” (From The Capacity to Care: Gender and Ethical Subjectivity by Wendy Hollway, 2006, p.2)

Today’s piece includes a few thoughts, ideas and books related to the overlapping human capacities for care, kindness and acts of generosity.

Care

I read somewhere that care can be understood in the light of Donald Winnicott’s concept of “holding” [briefly discussed in the previous post], in which the basic needs are met in ways that create possibilities for a person to flourish. So, care here is understood as a facilitating environment that allows someone to develop agency, creativity, spontaneity, and a sense of safety and belonging. Winnicott’s idea of the true self requires a good holding environment early on, in which the infants aggression, creativity, expression and needs are met and tolerated, an environment that balances interdependence and individuality without falling into individualism. His concept of holding could be considered as lying on a continuum from the private and personal to the public and political. Also, Winnicott and others’ work has influenced the recent interest and literature on the politics of care and the exploration of how a state could care for its citizens in non-controlling ways and the ways it could increase inclusion and equality.

Wendy Ann Hollway’s care ideal, suggests that an adult will have the capacity to engage in four kinds of care. Hollway, was a professor I had while doing an OU degree, whose approach and qualitative research model that integrate psychoanalytic theory with social science to understand (inter) subjectivity, identity, and social relations, has resonated with me and influenced my way of perceiving things. Her work focuses on affective and relational aspects of knowledge, and along with Tony Jefferson, she created an interview research method that incorporates the unconscious dynamics that occur between researchers and participants.

In a nutshell, Hollway’s care ideal, assumes that an adult will have the capacity to engage in four kinds of care. First, they will be capable of reciprocal interdependent care receiving and care giving. Second, they will be capable of providing the non-negotiable, asymmetrical demand for care that has always been required of mothers and is required of fathers and others who ‘mother’ babies and young children. Third, they will be capable of self care. Fourth, they will be capable of extending their care to both human and non-human objects (the environment or non- human animals). She explores how these capacities can be achieved through the development of the self, the mind and morality, how the capacity to care about and to exercise caring agency is supported or undermined by the available practices and discourses that have implications for care, and what kind of conditions and dynamics either foster or erode the development of a good enough capacity to care.

Kindness

Aristotle defined kindness as “helpfulness towards someone in need, not in return for anything, nor for the advantage of the helper himself, but for that of the person helped.” In the Cambridge dictionary it is defined as “the quality of being generous, helpful, and caring about other people.” Poet Naomi Shihab Nye writes about kindness: “Before you know what kindness really is / you must lose things, / feel the future dissolve in a moment / like salt in a weakened broth. / What you held in your hand, / what you counted and carefully saved, / all this must go so you know / how desolate the landscape can be / between the regions of kindness…..” An act of kindness is an act we do, often spontaneously, arising from our empathic attunement to others, for no other reason than to offer support, encouragement, help, joy or a sense of inclusion to the people close to us, but also to strangers. Kindness might also involve our standing up for others, resisting non kindness concerning not only the ones close to us, but also strangers and those unknown to us in distant places.

On Sunday (14 / 09 / 2025) we watched two Greek sailing boats leave the harbour of the small island I live on to join a fleet of forty four boats from ports from all around the world to sail to Palestine in order to open a humanitarian corridor and help end the ongoing genocide of the people there. Susan Sontag wrote that “Compassion is an unstable emotion.” It needs to be translated into action, or it withers.” Perhaps the people participating in this risky venture are translating their compassion into action, an action of kindness one could say. In his novel Life and Fate Vasily Grossman writes: “Human history is not the battle of good struggling to overcome evil. It is a battle fought by a great evil, struggling to crush a small kernel of human kindness…… This kindness, this stupid kindness, is what is most truly human in a human being….. This kindness is both senseless and wordless. It is instinctive, blind….. It is as simple as life itself.”

Charles Darwin believed that our human capacity for kindness was actually instrumental to our evolutionary success, our survival as a species. It seems that kindness was one of our defense strategies, which helped us survive in a world full of bigger, stronger and faster animals and harsh conditions. Our cave men ancestors that were better able to take care of their tribe, the women, children, the sick and the elderly gained an evolutionary advantage against those who failed to do so. Scientists have argued that their motives were at a deeper level self-serving, which might also be true. Moreover, research studies today show that being kind has a positive physiological and psychological impact on the person doing the kind act, too. Apart from feeling good after acting kindly, which is relatively easy to observe, it seems that it has a positive impact on our psychological and physical health, as well.

However, were our cave ancestors really at that point in human history, able to analyse their unconscious motives, or did they to some extent respond from a place of benevolence, empathy and even altruism, inherent in the human genome. As Margaret Drabble notes in an essay (2015), in which she envisions a future, where there are no more food banks, sweat shops and gulags simply because there is enough for everyone if resources were distributed a little more rationally and evenly, “unless we really are a hateful, murderous Hobbesian species, we can surely envisage a fairer future on a beautiful planet.” Fairness and kindness are complementary and they work together.

In any case, one cannot easily imagine how as a species we could have come thus far without the millions of acts of care, kindness and generosity performed across the time we have inhabited this planet. Even when we consider our own lives, with all the traumas, injustices and indecencies that we may have suffered along the way, it is still difficult to imagine how any of us could have survived in a totally aggressive, non empathic and cynical world that was devoid of individual acts of care and kindness and care ideals in our societal structures. This brings to focus the importance of building caring communities, and highlights the necessity of nurturing environments from the cradle to the end.

Finally, the capacity for kindness more or less reflects some level of awareness that mostly there is no need to not be kind and supportive when this is needed or asked for, and also, some capacity to disengage from our natural human undercurrents of competitiveness, meanness or indifference. A study I read somewhere suggested that wisdom is the combination of qualities like curiosity, tolerance, creativity, humility, resilience and kindness. The capacity to care and act kindly requires inner strength, empathy and compassion, all of which are viewed as markers of psychological health because they indicate an ability for better emotional and social functioning. An absence of empathy and a stunned capacity for care in caregivers, for instance, leads to insecure attachments for the child, and in broader sociocultural contexts this absence results in cynicism, exploitation, aggressions and violence.

And, are there any downsides to kindness?

There is the risk of burnout, exhaustion, and what some refer to as “compassion fatigue,” if we neglect our own needs and are unable to set healthy personal boundaries. An inability to say “no” to others, for whatever reasons, can lead to being taken advantage of or being exploited. Over extending ourselves might lead to losing ourselves or losing sight of our own needs and neglecting our goals. Kindness is often accompanied by emotional vulnerability, and therefore, it can at times cause us disappointment. Also, kindness should not be confused with over-tolerance of bad behaviours or lack of assertiveness when this is necessary. Overly competitive individuals might perceive an (over) generous or kind predisposition as weakness. Therefore, kindness and generosity need to be accompanied by discernment. Intentional kindness would involve balancing compassion for others with discernment, wise boundaries and a healthy sense of self preservation. As George Eliot wrote: “It is good to be helpful and kindly, but don’t give yourself to be melted into candle grease for the benefit of the tallow trade.”

Picture books for children and adults that explore the themes of kindness, goodness and friendship:

The three questions by one of my favourtie illustrators Jon J Muth, inspired by Leo Tolstoy’s story.

A young boy, Nikolai, is sometimes unsure about what to do or if he is doing the right thing, so he goes about asking his friends. However, he is not quite satisfied with their answers and goes up the mountain to meet Leo, a wise turtle that has lived for a very long time. He asks three questions: What is the best time to do things? Who is the most important one? What is the right thing to do?

Amos and Boris by William Steig, a beautiful tale of kindness, love, courage and friendship between two seemingly incompatible creatures, a mouse and a whale, willing to help, to their immense surprise, a fellow mammal.

Each Kindness written by Jacqueline Woodson and illustrated by E. B. Lewis, a moving story with lovely illustrations about kindness or lack of it, inclusion and belonging, and lost opportunities.

How to Heal a Broken Wing by Australian author and illustrator Bob Graham, a tender story for younger children

Because Amelia Smiled by David Ezra Stein, illustrates the potential for kindness to have a ripple effect, and how witnessing the good and choosing to pass it on in creative ways can travel far and wide. Similarly, a picture book with no text that I found on a local bookstall a couple of weeks ago, Small acts of kindness by Slovenian illustrator, Marta Bartolj, also illustrates how one small act of kindness triggers another and then another, like a kind of chain reaction that in the book comes full circle. However, for the ripple effect to occur the observers or recipients of kindness, must perceive it as positive, and then more importantly must choose to act kindly, too, and individual acts of kindness can have a more significant impact when these acts are collective.

August readings about life, love, care and loss                       Edited: September 7th, 2025    

“Nevertheless, in the study of anyone individual we find the past as well as the present, the infant as well as the adult.”  Doanld W.Winnicott

“Is not this contribution of the devoted mother unrecognized precisely because it is immense?”                   D. W.Winnicott

Part 1 of today’s post is a kind of potpouri of brief references to some of my August readings by Donald W. Winnicott, Joan Didion and Susanna Kaysen. Part 2 contains a summary of a recent Being Well podcast (Forrest and Rick Hanson) concerning important figures in the field of psychoanalysis and psychdynamic informed theories and therapeutic practices. Part 1 and Part 2 are actually two separate pieces that I’ ve been writing this last month, but because they are, to some extent, thematically related, I’ve decided to post them together. I’ve also uploaded some older artwork of portraits of people in the field of psychology.

Part 1

“Life changes fast. Life changes in the instant. You sit down to dinner and life as you know it ends.”  Joan Didion

The Year of Magical Thinking (2005) by Joan Didion, an American writer and journalist, considered one of the pioneers of New Journalism [a style of journalism developed in the 1960s-70s, which uses literary techniques and is characterized by a subjective perspective, in which journalists immerse themselves in the stories; whereas in traditional journalism, the journalist is supposed to be “invisible”], is a surgically precise examination of her grief and bereavement process following the death of her husband, writer John Gregory Dunne. It is an acute, poignant and yet detached and detailed examination of a loss that devastated her. And one could say it is both candid and discreet, and I think this contributes to her succeeding in turning the very personal into something universal, a story that can concern and reflect the experience of the bereaved wherever they may find themselves. Didion narrates a year that started when her husband collapsed from a fatal heart attack while they were having dinner on December 30th, 2003, after having visited their daughter who was put on life support in an intensive care unit.

Didion is called to deal with the loss of her husband and the caring of her daughter, Quintana Roo, who was in an induced comma in hospital, at the same time..There is from the beginning a parallel or rather intertwined narrative about her daughter’s unfolding drama, a case of double pneumonia that turned into septic shock. Didion could only tell her about her father’s death sixteen days later, after the doctors had managed to remove the breathing tube and reduce sedation to a point at which she could gradually wake up.

The expression in the title of the book, magical thinking, points to a childlike way of thinking, a psychological defense or mechanism of denial that Didion recruits, semi-consciously, to move through the days and weeks and months after the event. She reports several instances of her engaging with magical thinking and her inability to fully come to terms with the reality and finality of her husband’s death, hoping that he will somehow magically reappear to wear his shoes or pick up his book.

First she turns to literature, studies and medical books and articles to understand what happened, if her husband’s death oculd have been avoided and what to do for her daughter because as she explains: “In times of trouble I had been trained since childhood, read, learn, work it up, go to the literature. Information was control. Given that grief remained the most general of afflictions its literature seemed remarkably spare. There was the journal CS Lewis kept after the death of his wife, A Grief Observed, but not much else.” She turns to Freud and Melanie Klein’s writings about grief and mourning, and buys a medical book on neuroanatomy.in an attempt to make informed decisions concerning her daughter.

Eventually, her defenses crumble as she comes to grips with the abyss of grief and the reality of her husband’s sudden departure. She’s easily distracted and she feels fragile, disoriented. She notices a decrease in her cognitive capacities. She writes: “attempt to make sense of the weeks and then months that cut loose any fixed idea I ever had about death, about illness…about marriage and children and memory…about the shallowness of sanity, about life itself,” On grief she writes: “Grief comes in waves…… paroxysms, sudden apprehensions that weaken the knees and blind the eyes and obliterate the dailiness of life. Virtually everyone who has ever experienced grief mentions this phenomenon of “waves,” and elsewhere: “Grief turns out to be a place none of us know until we reach it. We anticipate (we know) that someone close to us could die, but we do not look beyond the few days or weeks that immediately follow such an imagined death. We misconstrue the nature of even those few days or weeks. We might expect if the death is sudden to feel shock. We do not expect this shock to be obliterative, dislocating to both body and mind. We might expect that we will be prostrate, inconsolable, crazy with loss. We do not expect to be literally crazy, cool customers who believe their husband is about to return and need his shoes.”

The second book I read by Joan Didion was Notes to John (2025), consisting of 46, I think, largely unedited diary entries.The book was put together after her death. In 1999 Didion began therapy sessions because her family “had had a few rough years.” Didion described these sessions in a journal she had created for her husband, John Gregory Dunne. Over some length of time she recorded conversations she had with psychoanalyst and psychiatrist Roger MacKinnon. It is a very intimate account. The sessions focused on her adopted daughter’s serious alcoholism and its effect on her work and decision making, Didion’s constant worrying, motherhood, individuation, over-protectiveness, guilt, adoption and the complexities of her relationship with her daughter. Later they discussed Didion’s own work and the difficulty she had in sustaining it amidst her worries, her own childhood, her early tendency to anticipate catastrophe, the question of her legacy. They also discussed ways of responding and supporting her daughter’s participation in AA groups when Didion herself disapproved of them intellectually, and whether to support her daughter financially, suicide risk, financial decisions, and more.

While I was reading the book I kept wondering whether this packaging of her notes and diary pages into a book after her death without her ever having expressed any desire for them to be published, was wise or ethical. I also wondered if it was just my view or whether others or book critics had similar feelings. So, I looked at some reviews on the Net, and yes, there were people who thought that maybe it was a misguided decision to publish these very intimate and personal notes. The fact that she was a writer and that she had written these pages did not instantly mean that they were meant for publishing. These diary entries could have been a way for Didion to further process what took place during the analysis, a way of also involving her husband in the process, or simply a recording of a period in her life, perhaps for use in future books. Also, Didion had written The Year of Magical Thinking and Blue Nights, both very personal books, about her husband and daughter’s deaths, so the publishing of the diary pages did not seem necessary. Some critics referred to a crude fascination in seeing the material below or behind the finished books, but I think it’s still an invasion of Didion and her family’s privacy after her death.

The Camera My Mother Gave Me (2001), written by Susanna Kaysen, is a memoir-novel, one could say. Defining it as a novel allows the writer more freedom to tell a personal story while shaping her narrative the way she needs. The title is an artistic reference to the body organ she writes about. Kaysen writes unflinchingly about a gynaecologically related health condition and her long struggle for answers and relief from pain from the physicians and the health providers she visits when there seems to be no satisfactory answer or agreement among them about neither the causes nor the treatment.

As we might guess when it comes to health, things can be complex, and a variety of causes, some more obvious and others less apparent, can contribute to a singular issue or a condition can be linked to other symptoms or difficulties. Moreover, it is often difficult to separate physical conditions and symptoms from psychology, early trauma or current relationships. Kaysen writes: “Don’t separate the mind from the body….. Don’t separate even character—you can’t. Our unit of existence is a body, a physical, tangible, sensate entity with perceptions and reactions that express it and form it simultaneously. Disease is one of our languages. Doctors understand what disease has to say about itself. It’s up to the person with the disease to understand what the disease has to say to her.”

She gradually comes to some understanding about certain things about herself, others and broader contexts. She notices a more forceful and non empathic aspect of her boyfriend, she is befriended by a younger man, who sends her conflicting messages, she remembers her mother, who has been deceased several years. She writes: “Watching my mother die had made me realize that it’s important to have a doctor you like. She did. He couldn’t stop her from dying, but he didn’t leave her to die by herself.” One of the health care professionals reminds her of certain aspects of her childhood toilet training. During a meal with friends, who knew her as a child, and while she was recounting a particularly unpleasant incident, when her high school principal had accused her of going barefoot and had become furious about it, when in fact she’d been wearing beige shoes, and under the influence of a medication she had been given, she began to dissociate and then have trouble remembering words. Visits to friends, wit and humor, and fresh realizations, get her through this odyssey of uncertainty, pain, frquent visits to doctors and experimentation with a variety of treatments, which bring more problems than relief.

I also read The Child, the Family, and the Outside World by Donald W.Winnicott (1896-1971), a pioneering and influential paediatrician and psychoanalyst. Much of the book is based on talks broadcast by the BBC at various times and was first published in 1964. Because it’s for mothers, parents and caregivers, and the general public, the language is very accessible. It provides clear, practical and empathic guidance, and the tone is non-judgmental and humane, respecting mothers’ intuitions about child-rearing. In the introduction he writes: “To begin with, you will be relieved to know that I am not going to be telling you what to do. I am a man, and so I can never really know what it is like to see wrapped up over there in the cot a bit of my own self, a bit of me living an independent life, yet at the same time dependent and gradually becoming a person. Only a woman can experience this….”

Winnicott draws on his long experience, as both a paediatrician and psychoanalyst, to take us on a journey from infancy to independence, creating a supportive frame for mothers and parents to navigate the challenges of child care and parenting. I should add though that all books and works exist inside a historical context, and therefore, books written over sixty years ago need to be read with this in mind, in order to both better understand the material, and also, to glean what is relevant and of value. Having said this, and although the book was first published in the 60s, there is a lot of wisdom in its pages and its insights and information remain highly relevant and continue to influence the understanding of child psychology and parenting today.

The book covers a variety of themes concerning child development, parenting and the dynamic interaction between family and environment. Each chapter focuses on a different aspect of development: feeding, breast feeding, food, the digestive process, weaning and the necessity to view the baby as a person from the start. He notes: “The story of a human being does not start at five years or two, or at six months, but starts at birth – and before birth if you like; and each baby is from the start a person, and needs to be known by someone. No one can get to know a baby as well as the baby’s own mother can.” He clarifies that the tendency towards life and growth is something inherent in the baby, and discusses the innate morality of the baby and how far parents should try to impose their standards and beliefs on the growing child, instincts and normal difficulties, young children and their relationships with father and other people, the need for support for parents, siblings, the only child, twins, shyness, natural aggression, distress, anger, jealousy and independence. Winnicott recognises that living and human development has its inherent difficulties. He writes: “Even the most kindly, understanding background of home-life cannot alter the fact that ordinary human development is hard, and indeed a perfectly adaptive home would be difficult to endure, because there would be no relief through justified anger.”

He stresses the great significance and value of play in a child’s development and the child’s experiments for independence. He writes: “Whereas it is easy to see that children play for pleasure, it is much more difficult for people to see that children play to master anxiety or to master ideas and impulses that lead to anxiety if they are not in control. Anxiety is always a factor in a child’s play, and often it is a major factor…..For in so far as children only play for pleasure they can be asked to give it up, whereas, in so far as play deals with anxiety, we cannot keep children from it without causing distress, actual anxiety, or new defences against anxiety.”
Finally, in the third part, The Outside World, there is an exploration of the needs of the under-five, the role of the nursery school, which he writes,“is not to be a substitute for an absent mother, but to supplement and extend the role which in the child’s earliest years the mother alone plays,” parents and teachers and the issue of influencing and being influenced, sex education in school, visiting children in hospital, juvenile delinquency, the role of dreaming in a child’s maturation, and aggression, which, Winnicott says has two meaning, “…it is directly or indirectly a reaction to frustration.,,,,& ,,,, it is one of the two main sources of an individual’s energy.”

Two extracts from the book:

“It is vitally important that we should get to understand the part played by those who care for the infant, so that we can protect the young mother from whatever tends to get between herself and her child. If she is without understanding of the thing she does so well she is without means to defend her position, and only too easily she spoils her job by trying to do what she is told, or what her own mother did, or what the books say. Fathers come into this, not only by the fact that they can be good mothers for limited periods of time, but also because they can help to protect the mother and baby from whatever tends to interfere with the bond between them, which is the essence and very nature of child care.”

“As to the theory that training baby must start as early as possible, the truth is that training is out of place until the infant has accepted the world outside himself and come to terms with it. And the foundation of this acceptance of external reality is the first brief period in which a mother naturally follows the desires of her infant………. This word ‘training’ always seems to me to be something that belongs to the care of dogs. Dogs do need to be trained. I suppose we can learn something from dogs, in that if you know your own mind your dog is happier than if you do not; and children, too, like you to have your own ideas about things. But a dog doesn’t have to grow up eventually into a human being, so when we come to your baby we have to start again, and the best thing is to see how far we can leave out the word ‘training’ altogether. There’s room for the idea that the sense of good and bad, like much else, comes naturally to each infant and child provided certain conditions of environmental care can be taken for granted. But it is a complex matter, this process of development from impulsiveness and claiming to control everyone and everything, to an ability to conform. I cannot tell you how complex it is. Such development takes time. Only if you feel it is worth while will you allow opportunity for what has to happen……..In the process of integration, impulses to attack and destroy, and impulses to give and share are related, one lessening the effect of the other. Coercive training fails to make use of this child’s integrative process. What I am describing here is in fact the gradual build-up in the child of a capacity to feel a sense of responsibility……”

There’s a little more on Winnicott’s ideas and work in the text below:

Part 2

I also listened to two Being Well podcasts this month, both worth listening to for those interested in this material. One could say it’s a critical introduction to leading figures of the psychoanalytical world or people in the field of psychotherapy that were influenced by psychoanalytical ideas. Forrest and Rick Hanson present key ideas, the movement of these ideas through time, and how we can understand the idea of psychodynamics. Forrest expalins that psychodynamics is just the notion that we’re not a fixed system and that there are different kinds of often conflicting forces at play inside of us. Consequently, the mind is not always in agreement with itself. By going through some kind of psychoanalytic process we’re practically trying to ,make sense of what’s happening in the deeper layers of the mind. By bringing this material into conscious awareness, we can increase our understanding of our decisions, behaviours, and also better our life. They also provide some critical commentary, and discuss the practical takeaways and what we can apply to our lives.

I will focus on Part 2 (Watch at: https://rickhanson.com/being-well-podcast-9-lessons-from-the-great-minds-of-psychoanalysis/)

In this second part Forrest and Rick begin their discussion by loosely discerning “three schools”, one could say: a) the ego school; b) the more relational and developmental school and c) the depth and meaning school.   

The first school of thought involves Alfred Adler, Anna Freud and Erik Erikson’s work and theories. Forrest and Rick summarize their work by asking the questions explored or answered in their work: How do we develop this thing that we call ego strength? How do we reinforce the ego’s ability to make good choices, to do the things that bring us closer to what we want to accomplish in life and overcome different kinds of challenges?

In brief, the first school was founded when Alfred Adler broke away from Freud at the beginning of the 20th century, mainly due to Freud’s focus on sexual drives and Adler’s view of Freud’s ideas as “a grim approach to psychology.” About Frued’s grim view of things Rick comments: “Freud’s description of the individual almost in isolation as a kind of victim or passenger of these primal instinctual processes slamming into societal and Victorian era rules….” They note that in Adler’s work there’s no Oedipus complex, instead it is a more growth-oriented, future-focused, aspirational model of development than what we see in more classic psychoanalysis with Freud, and also that Adler promoted a more egalitarian power dynamic, “much flatter power dynamic,” between the analyst and the client.

Adler also located the individual in a social context and explored people’s adaptations to their social context, as we all start by being little bodies that have to manage a sense of inferiority, in a complicated world full of big, powerful adults. The common notion of the inferiority complex comes from Adler, who was interested in how we gradually develop a healthy sense of worth and how we manage to build up our own sense of identity as a “me” in a complex relational world. Rick says that there is within us an important need as social primates to contribute to the world, to contribute to others, to feel of value, and for our contributions to not be thwarted, and that “Adler was one of the first people to really normalize that longing to contribute, to be of worth, to matter, including in terms of the social contextualizing of mattering.” However he cautions us “to be aware of doomed quests in which we’re trying to grow corn in the Sahara,” maybe repeating a pattern from childhood. So, we need a suitable and repsonsive environment.

Anna Freud, who, as Forrest notes, has probably contributed more to the actual practice of therapy as we know it today than her father, particularly in terms of her work on defense mechanisms. Her basic insight was that our ego, stuck between the id and the superego, tries to overcome this position by adopting a variety of defense strategies to protect itself from painful thoughts and feelings. Anna Freud was in particular interested in how the ego operates in children and in how their ego responded when under attack in the moment. Some defenses are repression, denial, projection, rationalization, sublimation, which involves the channeling of feared material, unwanted impulses and emotions, or trauma material into one’s work, art or other activities that can contribute to the world. Defenses are normal, useful and protective, and they help us cope in life, especially early on; however they can be both adaptive and maladaptive.That is why we need to learn and be able to function from a different place as we get older. Even awareness of how and when we fall back on them can be freeing. As Forrest says, as we increase our tolerance of the dreaded experience and we increase our capacity to express ourself fully, we are able to gradually push back the bars on the invisible cage.

The third person of the “ego focused school” they talk about is Erik Erikson (1902-1994). Development and questions of identity were central issues in his personal life and work, and he is known for his stages of development. On the podcast it is said that Erikson used Freud’s idea of internal conflict and expanded this out into a socially embedded and contextual developmental framework. Erikson suggested that the ego needs to adapt to face different kinds of real-world challenges, which he broke down into eight stages. He framed each stage “around a core conflict that we need to face, and we are either able to overcome it or we’re not.” If we don’t negotiate each developmental stage successfully, we carry it with us into the next phase of our life. However, we can if we choose to or have the opportunity, through therapy or other practices, “try to revisit that conflict in effective ways.” Rick adds that the stage series in Erikson is grounded in new science on neuroplasticity, and that there is an opportunity for all of us to keep growing and learning throughout our entire lifespan.

These stages according to Erikson were: Trust versus Mistrust, in infancy; Autonomy versus Shame or Doubt when one is a toddler; Initiative versus Guilt, from three to five; Industry versus Inferiority, mostly from six to eleven; Identity versus Role Confusion, tasks that to some extent need to be negotiated from the age of 12 to 18; Intimacy versus Isolation during adulthood (18 to 40); Generativity versus Stagnation, during middle age (40 to 65); and finally, Integrity versus Despair, during the final years of our life. Rick explains that what we’re talking about during this phase of life is acquiring a sense of wholeness, acceptance, inclusion, reflection and inner peace.

Others. like Daniel Levinson, built on Erikson’s ideas, and on notions of inevitable periods of construction, destruction and reconstruction during our life. Rick clarifies: “where you are constructing a life structure of some kind, which then sometimes kind of falls apart as it gets reorganized, not so much destroyed, but reorganized into the next stage. So, they’re normal rhythms, and there’s a wisdom in accepting the rhythms.” It is good to bear in mind that there is overlap between stages and drawing strict arbitrary lines between stages can be a bit problematic. Τhe basic takeaways, Rick notes, are that we never stop growing and changing.

Concerning the relational and developmental school,” which mostly focused on primary caregiver relationships, and how early experiences get played out in different ways throughout our life, Forrest and Rick focus on Klein, Winnicott and Kohut.

Melanie Klein (1882-1960) was one of the most influential psychologists and her most important contribution was object relations theory, which suggests we internalize our mother, father, and people we are in relationship with as objects. Forrest and Rick provide examples to explain the basic idea of this theory: “we develop knowledge of the world in a frame, in which there is a me over here and then everything else over there…” The over there object, they explain…….. could be the cup of milk, or father, or children at school. We understand ourself in part due to our relationship with the external object, whether it is a group of people or person or thing. They become the foundation of how we understand relationships, love, loss, trust, and so on. We then generalize these learned object relations patterns, with their associated feelings, desires, scripts, expectations, and behavior patterns, and we transfer old experiences into our current settings.

Klein’s theory suggests that we internalize the people that we depend on as objects, and over time, if we have had a healthy relationship with our mother or / and primary caregivers we internalize ourselves as also being something that we can depend on. Forrest explains that the idea is that all babies by nature are quite “paranoid and schizoidal.” Practically, this means that if the infant is hungry and the mom can’t or doesn’t respond, anger is directed at that bad object. Over time if things go okay, infants realize that “their mom is in fact, both the good breast and the bad breast at the same time. The caregiver that they love and the one that has kind of made them suffer in their mind, at least, is actually the same person. And this then moves the child into the depressive position. So, they experience grief and mixed feelings and complexity about the fact that their mom is both of these individuals…” This is a healthy part of development, and if the mother responds effectively to the distressed infant and the rupture is repaired, then this positive outcome is internalized, and this enables the child to gradually hold conflicitng or different things in their mind.

However, what happens when things weren’t good enough? Various learnt defense mechanisms like splitting, for instance, develop, which can cause problems in adulthood, and features like idealization and devaluation can then be present in a relationship or we have an inability to accept that people contain multitudes. They conclude with questions that can help us in adulthood to discern our internalized objects and modes of relating: What are we carrying around? What are those relationships like for us? Forrest notes that even awareness of the presence of the objects that we’ve internalized and are functioning as a kind of script for our behavior can be so useful and freeing. Klein was also one of the early developers of play therapy believing that for children it was a more effective way than free association to access their unconscious material.

Donald W. Winnicott paediatrician and a psychoanalyst (1896 – 1971), referred to above, focused on the ideas of good enough parenting, a holding environment and the notion a true self that exists inside of all of us. We become that true self through early relationships that support emotional authenticity, and value what is real in us. Forrest asks: “How do we develop authenticity, and how is authenticity developed in a child? How do they feel safe enough to be authentic? And what are the kinds of conditions that support that

Winnicott believed that infants and children do not need perfect but good enough parenting, a responsive caregiver, who pays attention to the baby’s needs and is not fearful or impatient with the infant’s distress or aggression. His notion of a holding environment, as described in the podcast, is “both literal holding and kind of metaphorical, emotional, psychological holding where the caregiver could survive the child’s distress…” In the book mentioned above Winnicott allows us to see what a holding environment could look like.

Heinz Kohut (1913 – 1981) moved his focus from Freud’s internal drive states to a more relational stance. Rick mentions that Kohut explored how we express our subjective sense of self and how we feel felt by other people in different relationships. And one way that we do that is through mirroring, which is how parents and others respond to us, a smile, a nod, an encouraging gesture, or other things that make us feel like we are valued and that our inner life is seen and affirmed by them. Healthy self-esteem requires supportive relationships. The question then that arises is whether these needs were met for a person when they were very young or did they feel more or less invisible, fearful even. Forrest says that “In the sense that we to a great extent become ourselves through our relationships, when we haven’t been supported adequately, we might need to “reckon with our developmental history a little bit…”

The third person discussed in this school of thought on the podcast is Otto Kernberg, who focused on pathological narcissism and borderline conditions and pointed to the combination of unmet normal narcissistic needs, which when unmet in our earlier years, then “typically, in adulthood people either suppress and deny those normal narcissistic needs for mirroring, validation, joining, and cherishing and prizing,” or they develop a fragile ego and become angry and pathological narcissistic, constantly looking for a way to fill themselves up from the outside. In the case that the process described above in relation to Klein’s theory didn’t go so well, some people will deal with this, as Rick puts it, by “looking to others to get plugged in to their frame, their motherboard, to complete their sense of healthy person-ness, and that leads to often treating others as objects that are just plugins. And you know kind of what it feels like when you realize that you’re just sort of a plugin module into someone’s motherboard to enable them to maintain some kind of emotional equilibrium……”

Rick and Forrest move on to other important figues, who took the psychoanalytic view of the layered and complicated mind in a very different direction. One of the people discussed is Wilhelm Reich (1897 – 1957). Many of us have read something by him. Forrest refers to The Mass Psychology of Fascism in 1933, one of the most political pieces of writing in the history of psychology. Reich, to focus on the positive part of his work, explored how trauma and repressed emotions can have a physical toll on our body, and the idea of character armor, which are the defenses that we developed to protect ourselves, the ways of holding ourselves or modes of posture. By investigating these, we can learn something about our deeper psychology. There is mention on the podcast of Antonio Damasio’s notions of somatic markers, the subtle ways in which musculoskeletal processes are adjuncts to our overall emotional memory systems, and how a lot of today’s trauma-informed work builds on his ideas that the residues of experiences are not purely psychological or purely mental, but have a physical cost to us.

They briefly discuss Jung and the neo Jungians and their ideas about fundamental archetypes and the collective unconscious, which Jung used to explain why we “share various themes in our psychology, even if two groups of people have never met each other.” These people focus more on the symbolic mind of dreams, fantasies and myths, are less focused on pathology or symptoms, and are more interested in existential goals. Jung believed that “The archetypes are the images of the instincts,” and Rick expands on this saying that “….something deep within our biology is imagined, like as a functional process in the psyche as it gradually bubbles into awareness through imagery of one kind or another that can often take forms.And to realize, that you are that jungle…. It’s too big to control. You can’t control the jungle. Maybe you can hack out a tiny clearing, sit in it next to your campfire … there’s this kind of underlying current of different forms of art will sort of show us the way or connect us to something….. more meaningful for ourselves.”

They refer to one of Clarissa Pinkola Estes, a feminist analyst, who reframed myths and fairy tales. In her books she analyses well known fairy tales through feminist lens.They also briefly mention Marie-Louise von Franz’s work on fairy tales. Finally, they discuss James Hillman (1926 – 2011), who believed that we need not try to recover or better ourselves, but that the psyche expresses itself through our dreams, desires, and even our “pathologies.” His relationship with depression, for instance, was unlike the typical approaches to psychology, which consider it a negative thing. Hillman framed depression as a rational response to a world that includes a lot of pain and ugliness, and therefore, by exploring what the depression, for instance, might be trying to say could help a person understand parts of their self, and also depathologize the experience.

Finally, they discuss the basic ideas of Irvin Yalom’s existential psychotherapy. Yalom is still alive, aged 94, and was a professor at Standford and a psychotherapist. He has also written many books. Many of his books have been translated into Greek, where, I believe, he enjoys a large readership. Rick and Forrest suggest that his core insight is that a lot of our distress in life comes from trauma, relational wounds, but also from a kind of confrontation with existential facts of life, particularly death, freedom, isolation, and the need for each one of us to construct their own meaning. These deeper existential fears shape the unconscious mind, and to some degree or other, we all have to grapple with the existential anxiety that comes up in life. This knowledge of our mortality can give rise to different defenses like obsessions and compulsions, anxiety or depression, or other activites and behaviours that we might employ to stave off our often unacknowledged fears.

August 15th, 2025

“Actually, the other person. Ιs not relative. Τhe other person is an absolute and unconditional value.”  Theodore Kallifatides

Theodore Kallifatidis was born in the village of Molaoi, in Laconia in 1938. His father was Dimitris Kallifatidis, a teacher originally from the Pontus region, and his mother was Antonia Kyriazakou, from Molaoi. He lived through the occupation and the civil war. In 1946, his family moved to Athens, where he finished high school and attended Karolos Koun’s drama school. After his military service, in 1964, at the age of 25, he left for Sweden, where he lives permanently. In Sweden he studied philosophy, completed his doctoral studies and taught at Stockholm University between 1969 and 1972. Later, between 1972 and 1976, he was the director of the literary magazine Bonniers. Since 1969 he has published many novels, poetry collections, travel essays and plays. He writes in Swedish and Greek. He has published translations, written screenplays for films and directed a film. His books have been published in more than twenty languages and he has received awards both in Sweden and Greece.

I was introduced to Theodore Kallifatidis’ work by my sister probably towards the end of my adolescence, but I have mostly read his books in the last decade. Kallifatidis’ books have many virtues, but personally what makes me return to his work are the themes he elaborates on in almost all his books: immigration, integration into the new space-place, language, identity, the feeling and experience of “belonging.” Much of what he discusses is somewhat familiar to me. I’m familiar with the “immigration experience” first as a child of immigrant parents in a foreign country, which was also my birthplace, then as a child of Greek immigrants in Greece, and then through internal migration.

Today I will refer to two very recent readings: Another Life: On Memory, Language, Love, and the Passage of Time  Love and Foreign Land 

Another Life    /   Μια ζωή ακόμα

In this book Kallifatides explores the reasons why for the first time in his life he could no longer write. Writing was his work and for decades, following his daily schedule unwaveringly, he spent a large part of his day in his small studio-office: “In the end it didn’t matter why I was so contented in that room, only the fact that I felt that way. I made my coffee, lit my pipe, switched on the computer, and the world came pouring in. That was how my life had been for forty years, sometimes in other rooms too, in other areas, in other cities, on trains and in hotels, overseas and here at home. I worked all the time. That was my life.”

But now he could not write, a combination of fatigue, forgetfulness / oblivion and  a kind of resistance would not allow him to write. The years were weighing heavily and the number of friends that had passed away was increasing. He writes that until now he had not experienced any interruption in the flow of his writing… “Every book was a bridge to the next.… But now it was 2015, and my strength was dwindling I had lived for seventy-seven years. The time weighed heavier than the water. It wasn’t possible to lift that weight from my shoulders. How was I going to be able to write again?..”

The book is a brief narrative of a critical moment in the author’s life where, by looking within and outside himself, and by looking back, he was able to connect his own personal existential anguish with the common existential anguish of society, and to narrate a crisis that transcends the personal level, revealing the broader dynamics and the becoming of our world. One could say that Kallifatides faced this crisis  holistically, not just as the result of age, existential anguish and fatigue. He moved beyond self-referentiality. He looked out the window. The world as he knew it had changed.

Sweden’s previously tolerant society had become more claustrophobic and hostile to the growing wave of immigration. The welfare state had shrunk. He comments: “I had a problem. Not only with myself but also with society. It was agonizing to see Sweden changing, step by step. Social justice and solidarity were giving way to the visible and invisible power of the market. Education was becoming increasingly privatized, as was health care.. …… The municipalization or decentralization of the education system destroyed our elementary schools, everyone knows that. But it hasn’t been changed, and it probably never will be. A number of private schools of varying degrees of competence and diligence have been set up, but the result of all this is that the children of less-well-off families will attend worse and worse schools. Decentralization was a crime against the democratic contract, and so far no one has apologized. And they never will.”

Moreover, Kallifatides tells us that the pay gap was growing year by year, Stokholm was experiencing the worst housing crisis in modern times, poverty was becoming more and more evident and there were beggars and homeless people on the streets, in the squares, on commuter trains. At the same time, hatred toward foreigners was growing, the most virulently anti-immigration party was rαpidly increasing, and Swedish society was divided about the refugee crisis.

He also discusses freedom of expression and notes that all freedoms have a natural limit, the other person: “Boundless freedom of expression was also about both resources and power. If you were outside the mass media system, you had virtually no opportunity to express yourself. It is one thing to comment on general matters and quite another to comment on your neighbors…. Whatever you do, whatever you say must take into account the other person’s existence. You can ignore this, of course, but there are consequences. Bitterness, hatred, and terrorism arise, even out-and-out war.» And elsewhere he comments: “Certain democratic freedoms resemble scorpions in that they can destroy themselves. It is possible to introduce tyranny or a dictatorship by democratic means. In a democratic election it is possible to vote in a party whose aim is to bring down democracy. It is possible to strangle freedom of expression with the help of freedom of expression. We have the freedom to put forward opinions aimed at totally or partly strangling the opinions of others.”

He gives examples from the Second World War where, for example, the Nazis in Athens distributed leaflets depicting Greeks as monkeys. He comments that he couldn’t regard it as art or as an example of the Gestapo’s freedom of expression neither then, nor now. He concludes that everything that is not forbidden is not necessarily ethical and permissible, and that the most important standard / value for both the state and the individual is the equal value of all human beings. Every other principle should stem from this.

But it was not only the changes in Sweden that worried him. Greece was in the throes of an economic crisis and all of Europe was turning against it, using undignified and racist descriptions of its people. He writes that times were different now, I could see it when I traveled to Athens two months later: “Greece and the Greeks were once more struggling to avoid defeat, as so many times in the past. The German Occupation during the Second World War, the civil war that followed, the mass emigration—these were the experiences that had shaped my generation. Virtually all of us had deaths to mourn, injustices that embittered us, abandoned dreams rotting in our souls. But none of this could be compared with the spiritual impoverishment we had experienced recently.”

Within he felt that something had been lost and that he wanted to find it again. He writes: “Emigration is a kind of partial suicide. You don’t die, but a great deal dies within you. Not least, the language. That’s why I am more proud of not having forgotten my Greek than of having learned Swedish. The latter was a matter of necessity, the former an act of love, a victory over indifference and forgetfulness. I had thrown a black stone behind me, as they say in my village when a person has decided to leave everything. And yet I couldn’t forget. I missed Greece and Greek more and more.” He wondered if it was time to go back to his roots, and if what remained now was not the future, but the past. He says: “When I was twenty-five years old, I asked myself how I should live my life, and the answer was: Leave. That was exactly what I did. Now, at over seventy-five years old, I was faced with the same question: How should I live the years that remained of my life? More and more frequently, the answer was: Go back.

He was brought out of the impasse by a short trip to Greece and to the village he was born, Molaos, where he was being honored by his compatriots. Initially, he was somewhat detached with a sense of resignation. Much had changed in Greece and this saddened him. Somewhere he comments that Greece had become a holiday resort. He writes: “I wanted everything to be just the same as it used to be. That is the emigrant’s drama. The reality he left behind is gone, yet that is what calls to him.”

In his village he attended a performance of a play by Aeschylus by the local students. He writes: “Aeschylus’s words fell like cool rain on parched earth. This language was my language.” The need arose to process the memories of his first language and he decided to follow his impulse to write again, after several decades, directly in Greek, the language of his childhood, the language he had left behind and which still resided within him. He writes: “I was caught between my two languages like Buridan’s famous donkey, which died of both hunger and thirst because it couldn’t decide whether to eat or drink.” Elsewhere, he describes the experience of writing in Greek: “I wasn’t writing. I was speaking. One word joined the next like small siblings. I wasn’t afraid of making mistakes, even though I knew I would. This was my language. It didn’t impose itself upon me, it wasn’t necessary to change my tone of voice.”

 Αγάπη και ξενιτιά   [Love and foreign lands] 

In this book, Kallifatides touches on familiar themes, such as, immigration and foreign lands, loneliness, identity, language, poverty, social justice, freedom and social responsibility, the weight of our decisions, gender relations, memory and the past, love and friendship, and not giving up.

The book takes us back to the 1960s, when Greece was once again sending its children away, either through immigration or through exile. The central character, 25-year-old Christos, now called Christo, a Philosophy student in Sweden, has been forced to leave Greece and his family due to political vews and exclusion from the university, among other things. In Stockholm, while busy with his doctoral thesis, and while trying with great difficulty to survive financially and find his place in the new reality without losing himself, flooded with feelings of loneliness and nostalgia, he falls in love with a married woman.

He chooses Aristotle and catharsis as the subject of his thesis and throughout the narrative he elaborates on questions about love, affection, morality and catharsis, and whether catharsis can be achieved in reality and if so through what means. He writes: “What else could he write about but catharsis? His homeland was a tragedy. Political life was corrupt and often violent… unemployment was approaching fifty percent for young people. It was not only the general situation but also his own… He was slowly sinking into a swamp of unfulfilled desires, vain dreams and plans, hopeless loves and socks with holes… his homeland did not want him even though his grades were excellent, but without a “certification of political beliefs” he could not even enter a chicken coop.” Ultimately, he had no choice but to emigrate like his father and grandfather had done before him.

The hero’s narrative captures the socio-economic and political situation of Greece at the time, which is on the verge of dictatorship, but also of the freer socialdemocratic Swedish society in which he is trying to integrate. Christos wants to succeed, to build a life there. He wants to get to know and love the new country, and he believes that the only way to keep his Greek identity is to be able to support it within the new society and the new language. He’s also aware that his departure from Greece is not over yet because he writes: “it was not enough to learn the foreign language. You have to change your insides too…. His country and his language lived in his mind and his psyche, in his gestures and his jokes, in his desire and in all his choices. How much did he have to change in order to survive?”

Kallifatides writes about his book:

[https://www.ertnews.gr/eidiseis/politismos/agapi-kai-xenitia-grafei-o-thodoris-kallifatidis/]

A few years ago, on a windy afternoon, I was sitting in a café in a provincial town in Sweden with a friend who had once been my teacher at Stockholm University. He had just retired, and I asked him how he was spending his days.

“It’s time to settle my accounts,” he said simply. I don’t know if he did. He died.

I had the same feeling when I started writing my recent book  Αγάπη και ξενιτιά  / Love and Foreign Lands. I left Greece at the age of 25. I’ve been living in Sweden ever since. I was consumed by the ifs and buts. What would my life have been like if I hadn’t left. What kind of person would I have been? Would I have written or not? I knew that. I would have written. It was all I knew. Because I had always written. As a child, as a teenager, as a young man. And then I left…………

Would I write in Sweden too? I didn’t know, but the need was greater than the difficulties. And I began to write in Swedish. What did this mean, not only for writing but also for me as a person. What did it mean when I met and fell in love with my wife. What did it mean when I spoke Swedish with my children? I didn’t understand these questions at the time. I didn’t even ask them. Years had to pass, I had to emerge from the struggle for establishment and survival in order to “settle my accounts” with the events and ideas that had defined me as a person. Love, immigration, social justice, catharsis, freedom, loneliness, mercy and fear……