Posted by: Sk | February 12, 2009

1 Why I don’t like you

On ‘Final Analysis’ (1992)

I really don’t like psychologists, even less psychiatrists. In a certain way, they stand in diametrical opposition to my own understanding of the world and even it I may have had some fun in analyzing their quite tortuous way of dealing with humankind, the very fact that so many people were suffering under the torture of worthless receipts aiming more at the total destruction of their souls than at theirs healing them, finally made me take horrible distances from this peculiar species, whose real reason to be I couldn’t really grasp.

Not that I didn’t take care. Science is power when well embedded in a social environment, and this may mean you can land in a psychiatric hospital much quicker than you may ever imagine just because you have some of those truth spellers on your back. It’s almost even dangerous to say you don’t like them, as if this intuitive affective reaction may imply the rejection of some kind of supra authority, already thus implying terrible consequences concerning a possible social problem with most wicked consequences.

In fact, my anger around them concerned their obsession around sex, and even what I used to called jungle sex, to say, their support of the thesis that it was natural and biological and thus almost an obligation in order to stay normal, to jump around in nightly exercises with people you would have just met on the way. Quite ill, the species, I used to tell to my romantic soul, who ironically asked itself why they didn’t finally do me the favor to close into psychiatric hospitals with high over doses of some in -ol or -zamin ending poison, all those pretended representatives of chastity. Mind doing at least humanity some definite favor, I whispered silently into their ears.

Seen the kind of job I had put as task to my destiny, it did not only occur once that I was confronted to the sudden appearance of those people, used quite often in order to get rid of political, social and other adversaries, as if the magic word of ’schizophrenia’ were the deus ex machina or joker in a tough card game, allowing to make disappear in the nothingness of the unreliability deriving of madness, most sound objections and contestations. Or information. Or evidence.

Now imagine a psychiatrist, the poor, arriving from Thessalonica after 60 km travel with a secretary, sitting down in your rural demeure and asking you after a slight introduction whether you have normal sexual relationships. Sorry, dear, but, is it of your concern? And if it were, could you please tell me what normal is? As I haven’t yet established clearly what that could mean, I keep my erotic world suspended from a  possible positive answer.

(I’ve always suspected psychiatrists had horrible sexual problems they were trying to solve by spying into other people’s private life …)

On the other hand it’s true that the psychology of the human, considered from the point of view of philosophy, which is to say, as deriving from abstract concept and definition, has always captivated my attention, were it just because precisely it seemed to be the most appropriate way of getting rid of my bitter comments by categorizing me under that epithet, schizophrenia.

Better know the enemy, before he eats you up.

On top of that, I’m really not excessively snob, although I may look as if I were. I hate pompous titles and references to books no one has ever read but make of you the particular special one who has been able to have an insight into such complication and what I used to call, perverted way of masking real intentionality. Thus, my wisdoms concerning the matter, which, mind, finished by being quite a lot, were based mainly on the logical consequence in a priori derivations (and proper definitions), personal observations (Psychiatric Hospitals in Istanbul and Serres) and whole lots of movies and popular best sellers and exactly that kind of stuff a good psychiatrist would never rely on.

It’s true that I adore Hollywood. I don’t know exactly how they manage to transform so many for me horribly interesting questions into interesting plots, were it at least because by watching them you don’t need to get lost for years in the research of the meaning of a concept of a so called scientific work, which, finally, say quite little about fundamental questions.

It’s not that I learned a lot about schizophrenia itself, although I couldn’t neglect approaches, but a real lot about the illness of psychiatrists who, I dare presuming, don’t specially adore Hollywood.

Thus, a movie struck my attention a long, long time ago, whose name I don’t remember and which strangely appeared once again in my life a few weeks after having said to IR that I’d really like to see that movie again. The second time I was in Greece and as much as the first time I arrived too late in order to get the title of the movie in question. It was about a psychiatrist who has a passionate symbiotic love affair with a stripper of the Czech Republic, who finishes by wanting to commit suicide (the stripper), phones the guy while having taken about 10000 pills, and the one not only makes love to her in coma but waits until he’s sure she’s dead in order to phone the ambulance. Bad luck for him, she survives, though with the only apparent consequence of functioning as some kind of bad consciousness reminder for the whole species of psychiatry. From a judicial point of view he has committed a perfect rape and a perfect murder without witnesses. So nice, the guy.

In fact, I don’t see movies as wanting to represent reality as it is, as reality is very boring normally (this is why I don’t like European cinema) and  your attention is kept awaken by most unbelievable situations and plots with many crimes and passions, which in fact, do build up incredibly accurate images of the psychic world. It’s an evidence that to say ‘You’re an idiot’ may be as violent as to start some heavy box round with knock outs and knifes, and even if the second is less frequent than the first, it keeps your attention much more interested then if you just have dull sentences exchanges in the wanting to maintain the feet on the earth. Consequently, I use to read movies as some symbolic plot affecting mainly the psychic world, although not always, and the more the characters are defined and clear and involved in obtuse images and situations, the better.

Lot of imagination, those people.

Yesterday I had decided to rest from so much work and theology and philosophy and memories and go to bed early when I started fumbling around on television see what the 11o’clock movie could be about, not very sure it would capture my attention, when I fell on a psychiatrist again. Dear Richard. I had seen that movie before, too, but had caught it just at the end, and it is true that I had remained curious on what it was all about (to find reasons to back my suspicions on psychiatrists is always a pleasure), so that, even if I don’t specially like Richard Gere because he is, to my liking, too sure of his necessarily having to be liked on some erotic level, conviction which for me has little foundation so that I use to develop some kind of ironic criticism on whatever he does, I sat down to have a look.

In fact (the plot is summarized: about a married woman who gets involved with the psychiatrist of her sister – who is specialist in legal advice in order to obtain freedom for crimes under the pretext of momentarily mental illness – and kills her husband pretending precisely to that kind of illness, so that the psychiatrist is about to originate hers being left free, when he discovers it was all horribly intentional and finishes by being witness of her death while falling down from a fare), the psychiatrist, Jimmy, becomes almost immediately very suspicious to my mind, not only because he’s seeing all sorts of sexual meanings in the sayings of the sister, but because he involves himself with a married woman after having met her twice, and playing nice and moral while saying ‘it’s not correct’, forgets that the woman in question shows obvious schizoid behavior.

The black police officer does not like Jimmy either, as little as myself.

But how interesting. The perspective shows a somewhat egocentric, almost leaning on bastardize, Greek orthodox as husband of the beautiful Kim Basinger (I don’t like her very much either, but it’s an evidence that you can’t neglect the fact she may be very seducing), which is nothing but a very old response to schizophrenia arisen from probably even mythological times. What does it mean? A (latent) schizoid does not have a determined character and the very fact of leaving her (in this case) to her will and understanding may put in movement a whole ton of mechanisms that may make her transform her schizoid tendencies into some kind of reality. (A schizoid does, if the illness develops itself, recreate some kind of image of his identity in some puzzling and almost always astonishing image, which may involve crimes and murders and in any case, uses to be quite dangerous for the environment.)

Greece, and it is actually still the case, if not in other countries, blocks this possibility by reassuring the schizoid socially through the marriage to a, in this case, determining male, who is telling the schizoid all the time what she has to do (type benjaminite), so that the schizoid is sure of being through the fact of doing exactly what she has to do. If society keeps a slight eye on the bizarre couple, the schizoid tendencies do usually not develop themselves.

This appears to Mr Jimmy as aggressive to his own concept of the world. He believes that the woman has to be self determined and self determining and sees in the husband some kind of atavistic macho sample who is making his wife suffer horribly. To say, that the whole movie is determined by the vision of Mr Jimmy, who is, necessarily, as to his own eyes, the goody of the story.

To allow Kim Basinger (I’ve forgotten her name in the movie) to determine herself, means in this case, to allow her developing her schizoid features. Now, what are these features? The schizoid tendencies do apparently not arise from some traumatic incest relationships in the past, but are obviously homosexual repressed. Such evidence may be obtained only in indirect way. She’s going to commit a crime she will accuse Mr Jimmy of, by using some proof which has been artificially obtained. In a schizoid language this means that she holds Jimmy for responsible of the crime, as having his marks of identity (finger prints), and in a schizoid’s world, the psychic identity prevails on physical determination. Now, why should Jimmy be responsible of that crime in her understanding? Because his logic, his ways of organizing reality, are ‘murdering’ the Greek solution.

While assisting to his argumentation during a trial, you may say from this perspective, she recognizes the psychic murder. As schizoid in this table, she submits to the imposition of a male logic as ‘correct’, which indicates the homosexual repression, and builds up a magnificent image of her hypothesis. In fact, you may easily conclude that she shifts between the wanting of preserving her ‘Greek solution’, the wanting his not giving in to her ‘plans’, the wanting to catch a psychic murder and the desire of developing her own identity outside of Greek or American solutions in a very ambivalent and troubled way, which is one fundamental mark of schizophrenia.

Why though should Mr Jimmy in his logic be at the intellectual origin of such crime? It may seem, Kim Basinger would have said, as if the assimilation of the psychic movement to sexual instinct and the necessary association of symbol to sexually determined objects and facts, (Freud) would create a hole in justice, one, and two, be at the origin of the destruction of the ‘Greek solution’.

The hole in justice looks the following way: you categorize people under two main categories, the ones who are responsible for their acts (prison) and those who can be said mentally ill (psychiatric hospital). Appears around 1970 some tendency to avoid harsh prison penalties by alleging ‘momentarily mentally ill’. What a concept. For seconds, you’re not aware of what you do and neither you’re ill, neither sane, thus, mostly always left free after a while.

But what has this to do with some sexual obsession arriving from the side of some psychiatric currents? What seems to have gone lost is the ability of determination in identity in its definition. To say. Sorry, dear, you’ve killed someone, you’re a murder. Or well, even more sorry, you’re ill, let’s see what it is about. What does it mean, a little bit of this in that without … what? without any kind of responsibility whatsoever.

In fact, the abstract association of everything to some sexual symbol means that you escape the human affective responsibility linked to sexual activity. This dream means ‘that you’re innocently requesting to be raped’ and if I do so, well, blame your dream after. The human responsibility in this that he assumes a certain number of tasks linked to this activity, were it financial, affective or social (marriage) disappears inside of the putting into reality of the most obscure movements hidden away in the unconscious and revealed by the psychiatrist.

The same. The sexual irresponsibility conducts to the justification of criminal activity inside of the same logic. Mr Jimmy does obviously tend to some kind of sexual irresponsibility, which shows the obvious link established between both.

Clearly, this destroys the Greek solution. The Greek solution based on the heavy insistence in sexual responsibility, in some decor insisting on pride and honor and shame, does become none (is killed) inside of an environment where the sexual responsibility disappears. Kim Basinger does nothing but give this a clear schizoid image by heavily pointing at the author of such a disaster.

Inside of Mr Jimmy’s frame of understanding, Kim Basinger becomes the actor, (represents) Jimmy’s logic as depending on her own frame of understanding (schizoid structure) and kills her own husband. For her, he’s the intellectual author of the crime, and as healthy, legally to be punished, which she attempts to do.

Of course you become wicked after a while. You start suspecting that the whole ideology destroying secure and healthy bumpers to mental weakness is more than deliberate. That in fact, Mr Jimmy may have had some fun while having an easy love affair, which is always possible with undetermined waving schizoid characters. That he himself, as obvious, does not see any need in recognizing a schizoid character, and even less in pointing at some eventual repression, as this may take away from him his possible amusement. You finish by suspecting even, that psychiatric ideology does break natural affective links were they homosexual by insisting on biological impulses in order to assure themselves a variety of experiences without cost nor effort.

Kim Basinger would have looked extremely intelligent inside of a socially different context. She’s still saying, ‘You’re a psychopath, Jimmy’, may I prove even through my own guilt.

And this, you see, Sask (she tended to be a psychiatrist, too, in some representations), if it is a general feature, makes the psychopath evaluate illness in general social contexts: he’ll free the psychopath and close in the healthy. See why I don’t like you?


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