Archetypes, Stereotypes, and the Absence of Knowledge

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All knowledge is ultimately self-referential, imbued with only such meaning as we choose to give it.

The archetype is a difficult idea to grasp within Jungian psychology. Archetypes are thought to exist within our psyche, being innately derived. Jung suggested that their existence is due to our connection with the collective unconscious, a broad sharing of the unconscious mind across humanity and across the aeons. While this can have spiritual overtones – and to Jung it likely did – it can also be interpreted using a less spiritual framework. Archetypes can be considered as a set of psychological memes passed down socioculturally through the generations, perhaps reinforced genetically by some basic similarities between all humans in terms of how our brains are neuroanatomically formed.

Archetypes include our Self – the person we both are and aim to be; the Shadow – those traits that lie hidden within ourselves, and often from ourselves; and the Anima/Animus – the part of our psyche that allows us to understand and communicate with the opposite sex. It’s also perhaps possible to consider our Persona – the person we project to others – as a form of archetype, although I consider it a simpler more superficial entity than the others mentioned.

When these archetypes come into contact with the world, a number of consistent mythic symbols are created to understand them. They have been referred to as symbols, motifs or archetypes-as-such. I like to think of them as Stereotypes. Stereotyping is often thought of as a bad thing these days, but in truth, the Stereotype has an important beneficial function. They are widely-held, over-simplified views but that also makes them very useful as a short-cut to understanding the world. Stereotypical forms of archetypes include the mythological motifs of the hero, the wise old man, the earth mother, and so on.

As we perceive the world around us, we do not process every situation as being fresh data. Consider: colours are not real; colour is a perception, or construct, based on the wavelength of photons hitting our retinas. Similarly, what we think of other people are also not actually real people; they are constructs based on the data we receive from those entities. We each possess a personalised understanding of who other people are, and what they mean. There is no objective reference yardstick by which to measure them. We interpret their existence both consciously through reason, and unconsciously through archetypes and stereotypes.

A careful reader might now suggest that if conscious thought and reason can allow interpretation, then this potentially provides a scientific approach to understanding. This is only true if reason itself is independent of archetypal influence. As our rules of reason are human constructs, we cannot be entirely certain that this is so. Munchhausen’s Trilemma (also known as Agrippa’s Trilemma) suggests that any line of reasoning can eventually be boiled down to one of three arguments: circular, regressive and axiomatic. Circular arguments depend on the theory and proof supporting each other, regressive arguments become a never-ending series of proofs, and axiomatic arguments are based on an assumption of correctness.

This is a difficult proposal to accept, but consider a child asking why the sky is blue. You could argue that the sky is blue because we have defined the colour we perceive it to be as blue: a circular argument that ends the debate but does not fundamentally answer the question. You could humour the child by discussing wavelengths of photons and the energy they carry, the effect that energy has on the retina, transduction mechanisms, post-processing of the transducted stimuli into perceptions, psychological constructs of perception, the concept of a construct, the meaning of a concept, and so on, without ever really getting to a final irrefutable proof. This regressive approach allows for a vast expansion of knowledge, but at some point you have to limit your field of study, or be trapped in a never-ending sequence of “but why?”s. Finally, the poor parent of our inquisitive child may simply snap, and say “it just is”: a mere axiomatic assertion of truth.

You can choose to accept any one of the three horns of trilemma and still carry out much productive work, but that does not answer the trilemma’s problem.

Jung’s archetypes and the stereotypes that result from them could be conceived of as humanity’s practical solution to the trilemma. They give us a framework for understanding ourselves, each other, and the ideas and concepts we create, without us ending up in a never-ending morass of “unknowability”. Of course, archetypal theory is in itself just as trapped by the dilemma as is any other idea (and indeed, is the trilemma itself, if you want to give yourself a headache). But it does allow us to think about who we are in a practical way, and consider who we might become.

Buddhists have the concept of sunyata or “emptiness”, which seems to my limited understanding of the term to be a similar concept. It suggests a middle way between the nihilism and anomie of nothing being provably real and the illogicallity of considering what we think of as real being necessarily true. It hints at a way of finding meaning in the emptiness by embracing it and finding oneself in that void. Jung might call that individuation, the ultimate manifestation of one’s potential self.

All knowledge is ultimately self-referential, imbued with only such meaning as we choose to give it. And what a wonderful opportunity and privilege of our humanity that is.

How was your Blue Monday?

Blue Monday is a charming bit of pseudoscience that – like all the best fiction – has a kernel of truth in it.

It’s supposed to be “the most depressing day of the year”, calculated on an arcane (and meaningless) equation combining the climate, number of days since Christmas, debt levels, failing New Year’s Resolutions and other factors.

Of course, all these issues can certainly impact on mood, but combining them into a precise formula for determining the maximal point of feeling down is the purest nonsense.

Nonetheless, the face validity of the concept has given it traction in the popular press, and anecdotally, I can certainly add that I had a busy day, with several urgent assessments.

That hectic day comes on a backdrop of having suffered a cold over the past few days and I reserve the right of my gender to complain bitterly about having been ill with a minor ailment. In fact, I felt so under the weather that I wore a few of my favourite items to work during the worst of it.

Coincidentally enough given today’s moniker, they happened to be predominantly blue. The top outfit has a navy worsted-flannel suit, paired with a pale pink shirt with white contrast collar, and a navy paisley tie. The lower look is of a navy pinstripe suit, contrasting grey flannel waistcoat, white shirt, and navy/silver block stripe tie.

Strange as it may be to some others who consider any tailored clothes to be constricting and ties as tantamount to nooses,  I view these as “comfort clothes” if having to work. They are old favourites, familiar to wear, soft and silky to the touch, and reassuringly snug. They provide predictability and protection when feeling under the weather. I’m sure everyone has examples of such items in their own wardrobe, although I accept I may be an outlier in picking tailored items as examples!

Clothes can be an external & unconscious manifestation of inner mood. It is a stereotyped cliche (with all the benefits and failings of that class) that subdued colours can sometimes reveal a low mood and that bright or clashing colours are worn by those with elevated affect. But a more nuanced view would be that we can consciously choose outfits to enhance or counter our moods. We can also use them to bring long-gone memories back to life. Just as Proust’s famous madeleine involuntarily evoked a detailed memory, so can favourite items of clothing elicit past events. For instance, the tie in the first outfit was purchased in Tokyo and choosing to wear it inevitably reminds me of various happy aspects of that journey.

This association of clothes with memories can cut both ways. For the longest while, I disliked green shirts as I received some bad news twice while wearing the same green shirt. Superstitious nonsense of course, but it still took a conscious effort to break that association. In the end, any linkage can be overcome with active practice to break the reinforcement. Fortunately, for the items worn in recent days and featured above, the positive associations linger on, despite my coughing and nose-blowing while wearing them.

Here’s to Blue Monday!

Do People Change?

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I had the good fortune recently to catch up with a couple of close friends from my university days. Over time, my frequency of contact with them naturally reduced, such that by the time of this recent meeting, we worked out that it had been over seven years since we were all last together in the same room. We rapidly exchanged news and slipped back into the old familiar modes of chatting to each other. I enjoyed myself greatly, and I feel confident they did too.

It struck me on the journey home that it was remarkable that while we’ve certainly changed physically – a few grey hairs here and there, alas – and in our personal lives – varying relationships, children, career paths – we were still able to talk to each other smoothly and comfortably. I like to flatter myself that I’ve grown wiser and not just older over the years, but how much can one really have changed if it is so easy to slip back into old patterns?

Fortunately for all three of us, life has generally treated us well, and long may that continue. Is this part of the reason we hadn’t altered our fundamental patterns of engagement?

I suppose that much of this consistency comes down to the fact that by the time one graduates from university, one’s personality is well-formed. Personality is commonly defined as an individual’s set of enduring mental and behavioural characteristics. These develop as one matures, and by adulthood are fairly deeply engrained. Knowledge can be added, and decision-making can be refined in light of that new information, but our essential individual modus operandi to life is pretty well set. There is a whole field of psychological & psychiatric research and practice devoted to understanding what happens when these characteristics are unhelpful, though controversy exists as to how “unhelpful” in this context should be defined.

What is less controversial is that altering personality is a very challenging process: these characteristics are formed so gradually and over such a long period of time that it can take an equally long period of incremental effort to alter them. It’s akin to changing the course of a river that’s formed through gradual erosion; the odd viaduct or dam can be put in place with some significant effort but altering the entire course of the river requires a more fundamental reorganisation. Still, there is evidence that such exceptionally difficult change is possible.

In the end, I suppose that my friends and I have been fortunate that our own riverbeds have formed along favourable paths. A key life challenge is integrating new knowledge into these pre-existing patterns in such a way as to add value (wisdom? happiness?) rather than risk altering the fundamental trajectory by generating stress.

I’m curious as to what the general feeling is… do you think you’ve changed over time, on a fundamental level?

Psychology of Clothes: The Pocket Square

As a New Year dawns, what better way to commemorate it than by thinking about a very old item of clothing?

Pocket handkerchiefs have been around for a long time. Popular convention suggests that they were invented by Richard II of England; there are written reports from courtiers that he used square pieces of cloth to wipe his nose. Over the centuries, their use permeated through polite society. Distinctions were drawn between socioeconomic classes by the materials used and the amount of decorative embellishment present.

Their use as a style accessory is more recent, stemming from the early part of the 20th century. The tradition is thought to have begun from the habit of placing a clean linen handkerchief in the breast pocket of a jacket to keep it free of dirt. After it was used, it would be rotated to the trouser pocket and washed after use. Its prominence in the breast pocket inevitably affected one’s overall appearance, and led to the development of different decorative folds and its manufacture in more luxurious materials such as silk.

Unsurprisingly, these more expensive items became purely decorative: the pocket square. Practical handkerchief use continued in its traditional trouser pocket home, but the development of disposable paper tissues by Kleenex in the 1950s led to their too becoming rarer.

Pocket squares are very eye-catching with their anti-utilitarian quality making their presence a magnet for others to project their unconscious preconceptions onto you. At its most basic, anyone wearing a square will almost certainly give off the impression of being careful with their appearance. This can be a positive: someone who cares about such things may well be conscientious about other things too. But it can be construed negatively as someone who is self-absorbed and lacking in empathy. Care should be taken in one’s manner, speech, and overall appearance to reinforce the positive preconceptions.

The different materials and folds also impact how you may be seen. Plain white linen, folded square, has gained recent popularity due to its omnipresence in TV series Mad Men. While it is traditionally associated with establishment authority and conventionality, its fashionable popularity contaminates that message. Futher complicating this is the waning of the slim 60s look in more recent menswear collections, risking the fatal presumption by viewers of your not just having an interest in fashion, but also being behind the latest fashions! Wearing it with more typically-cut jackets/suits neutralises the appearance of following a fading 60s trend, and instead resonates with the older establishment image.

Silk squares, available in a dazzling variety of patterns and colours, are shown to their best effect in a puff fold or with the points showing. Their relative fluidity of appearance can counteract the sterness of a business suit, and their luxury mitigates the rusticity of a tweed. They are less serious than square folded white linen, allowing the projection of a softer, gentler image with the risk of appearing frivolous or louche. The less that is visible, the less likely it is that those flipside traits will be perceived. Complementary rather than contrasting colours to the rest of your outfit also help to project a soft and thoughtful image. Of course, which persona you wish to project is entirely up to you; personally, I think there’s a lot to be said for (occasionally) appearing a bit frivolous!

Judicious use of the pocket square can help you forge a useful identity. Imprudent use risks your projecting a far less helpful image. Understanding your target audience and your purpose when meeting them will help you to choose wisely.

The illustrating photo was taken earlier today. The pocket square is from Battistoni of Rome, worn in a loose puff fold against a tweed jacket with brown staghorn buttons, cashmere v-neck jumper in a similar brown to the buttons, and an oxford-weave button-collar shirt. Not pictured are flannel trousers in a somewhat duller green than the square and chelsea boots in a similar brown to the jacket. The square therefore picks up colours from the jumper, the trousers, and the jacket.