Magical Thinking
In the field of psychology, displacement refers to the subconscious shifting of one's emotions onto a neutral or acceptable object rather than confronting the thing, idea, or behavior that is truly the source of one's mental distress.
It is a classic defense mechanism, a way to avoid facing the true cause of one's discomfort, sorrow, or anger.
As the United States enters its ninth year at war with the generalized object known as "terror," we have fully embraced displacement as a means by which we cope on a daily basis.
Our emotions are displaced. The sorrow, fear, and real anger that any war should evoke in people have been shifted away from the war itself. Instead, we focus on any available, "acceptable" thing or event that allows us to mourn and grieve.
I first witnessed what I took to be an act of mass displacement after the publication of writer Joan Didion's memoir, _The Year of Magical Thinking_ (2005), in which she chronicled the painful days and months surrounding her daughter's illness and her husband's sudden death.
Didion's book won the National Book Award in November 2005 and was a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award, as well as the Pulitzer Prize. The book was also adapted for the stage in 2007.
Called a classic in mourning literature, Didion's book struck a nerve. In part, her struggle to learn how to grieve was the reason for the book's power. But at the same time, her own struggle underscored how clearly the post industrial world has embraced displacement as a means to cope with hard, cold reality.
As she sought comfort, Didion found useful advice in the etiquette literature of Emily Post, who wrote, Didion asserts, "in a world in which mourning was still recognized, allowed."
As Didion's book flew from the shelves, critics wrote raving reviews, and Didion herself struggled through several interviews, the act of displacement was sealed.
We mourned for her. We cried for her. We felt her grief if it were our own.
And it was.
We were transferring onto Didion our own pent-up sense of grief that first began its slow simmer after 9/11 and with the ushering in of a new era of endless war.
Whether one supports the war, opposes the war, or occupies that no-man's-land of partial truths, displacement is a safety valve for emotions that have few outlets. Didion herself reminded us this fact at the very same time her story served as an acceptable object for our feelings.
Since Didion's memoir appeared, there have been other mass acts of displacement: the mourning over Michael Jackson's death in 2009 and the vicitms of the recent earthquake in Haiti are the most obvious; but there have been others.
Goodbye to All That
Robert Pinsky's New York Times review of Didion's book was subtitled: "Goodbye to All That." Pinsky may well have been referring to Didion's 1967 essay by the same name in which she chronicles her move from New York to California.
But the famous title finds its origins in the 1929 autobiography by Robert Graves: _GoodBye to All That_. Graves, who had served as a soldier in the British Army during World War One, wrote one of the most powerful works to emerge in the dark shadow of the postwar era. His is the quintessential volume of disillusionment.
At one point in the book, Graves recalls a conversation in the midst of the trenches. An adjutant tells Graves:
" 'We’ve had three hundred casualties in the last month here. It doesn’t seem so many as that because, curiously enough, none of them have been officers. In fact, we’ve had about five hundred casualties in the ranks since Loos, and not a single officer.'
Then he suddenly realized that his words were unlucky.
'Touch wood!' David cried. Everybody jumped to touch wood, but it was a French trench and unriveted. I pulled a pencil out of my pocket; that was wood enough for me."
A classic illustration of displacement from a classic war memoir.
Ultimately, Graves does come to realize the true object of his fear and he jettisons his "magical thinking."
Will we?
In the field of psychology, displacement refers to the subconscious shifting of one's emotions onto a neutral or acceptable object rather than confronting the thing, idea, or behavior that is truly the source of one's mental distress.
It is a classic defense mechanism, a way to avoid facing the true cause of one's discomfort, sorrow, or anger.
As the United States enters its ninth year at war with the generalized object known as "terror," we have fully embraced displacement as a means by which we cope on a daily basis.
Our emotions are displaced. The sorrow, fear, and real anger that any war should evoke in people have been shifted away from the war itself. Instead, we focus on any available, "acceptable" thing or event that allows us to mourn and grieve.
I first witnessed what I took to be an act of mass displacement after the publication of writer Joan Didion's memoir, _The Year of Magical Thinking_ (2005), in which she chronicled the painful days and months surrounding her daughter's illness and her husband's sudden death.
Didion's book won the National Book Award in November 2005 and was a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award, as well as the Pulitzer Prize. The book was also adapted for the stage in 2007.
Called a classic in mourning literature, Didion's book struck a nerve. In part, her struggle to learn how to grieve was the reason for the book's power. But at the same time, her own struggle underscored how clearly the post industrial world has embraced displacement as a means to cope with hard, cold reality.
As she sought comfort, Didion found useful advice in the etiquette literature of Emily Post, who wrote, Didion asserts, "in a world in which mourning was still recognized, allowed."
As Didion's book flew from the shelves, critics wrote raving reviews, and Didion herself struggled through several interviews, the act of displacement was sealed.
We mourned for her. We cried for her. We felt her grief if it were our own.
And it was.
We were transferring onto Didion our own pent-up sense of grief that first began its slow simmer after 9/11 and with the ushering in of a new era of endless war.
Whether one supports the war, opposes the war, or occupies that no-man's-land of partial truths, displacement is a safety valve for emotions that have few outlets. Didion herself reminded us this fact at the very same time her story served as an acceptable object for our feelings.
Since Didion's memoir appeared, there have been other mass acts of displacement: the mourning over Michael Jackson's death in 2009 and the vicitms of the recent earthquake in Haiti are the most obvious; but there have been others.
Goodbye to All That
Robert Pinsky's New York Times review of Didion's book was subtitled: "Goodbye to All That." Pinsky may well have been referring to Didion's 1967 essay by the same name in which she chronicles her move from New York to California.
But the famous title finds its origins in the 1929 autobiography by Robert Graves: _GoodBye to All That_. Graves, who had served as a soldier in the British Army during World War One, wrote one of the most powerful works to emerge in the dark shadow of the postwar era. His is the quintessential volume of disillusionment.
At one point in the book, Graves recalls a conversation in the midst of the trenches. An adjutant tells Graves:
" 'We’ve had three hundred casualties in the last month here. It doesn’t seem so many as that because, curiously enough, none of them have been officers. In fact, we’ve had about five hundred casualties in the ranks since Loos, and not a single officer.'
Then he suddenly realized that his words were unlucky.
'Touch wood!' David cried. Everybody jumped to touch wood, but it was a French trench and unriveted. I pulled a pencil out of my pocket; that was wood enough for me."
A classic illustration of displacement from a classic war memoir.
Ultimately, Graves does come to realize the true object of his fear and he jettisons his "magical thinking."
Will we?