The Heav(enl)y Reward

It is a fact that setting a goal for oneself to aim at, produces the corresponding mental coordinates that navigate their actions to its achievement and a motive that provides orientation for the work in progress. Yet why is it so common that people lose themselves in the course of this work, usually as a sense of failure and disappointment, or even as what has been named burnout over the last few years? Multiple motivational quotes are then invocated to assist the suffering person, by further encouraging their work… and their life whose definition has become identical to the word work: “Never give up!” “The only barrier is You!” “Believe in yourself!” “Become a better You!” etc. only for one to come across the same affects that sooner or later happen to re-emerge, sometimes even more powerfully.

Our life experience enlightens us with all the answers from which we draw natural conclusions: Why would there be a burnout if not by some forced labour? And why would there be any disappointment at all, if not due to a failed expectation of being rewarded by our efforts? It is of course inevitable that one demands a reward for their efforts if what they do is something they don’t want to, namely, something they are forced to do.

We may hence well justify that the goal which has initially been set and which directs the subject’s actions has never truly been something the subject themselves desired, or at least not on their own terms. And what’s more, that once the subject is led to the belief that this is their own desire, then the illusion is formed that they like working for it!

 

This is what happens when the goal is based on some sort of idealisation, that is to say a formed ideal image of myself, a future perfect version of me, the one I would like to be and thus I am currently not. “I am not”, signifies that one is negated when they identify with that image: losing any sort of presence in their life by being absorbed into the perfection of the image of a future self.

Trying to become a better version of oneself towards ideality means that the ideal image only motivates work that comes with the promise of some payback, i.e. to be rewarded with something that will complete their image of perfection. Within that discourse there is anticipation that one will be able to get enjoyment once the requirements of the ideal are fulfilled. Consequently, if the reward is not received, the body suffers because the promised object of payback is not received and the image remains incomplete, in other words, fragmented. But isn’t it an oxymoron that the body is experienced as heavy when a part is missing? Why does this happen? Because one is unable to perceive the whole operation of the ideal, namely, that what is experienced as missing from one’s body is not the lack of any anticipated object but the excess of labour itself, i.e. the expended effort towards the ideal; it is precisely because of this effort that one demands compensation. The subject is caught in a vicious circle, stemming from the fact that an ideal image is introjected as one’s true identity. Vicissitudes come by definition in one’s life once the establishment of the ideal image takes place.

How could all this be simplified more, if not by saying that one demands payment only when working for someone other than themselves! The subject is so consumed and absorbed in this process, that in the statement “I am doing this for myself”, the self does not even refer to themselves as a subject but to how they are objectified for some Other who nominates and thus chooses the ideal that the subject takes as their identity: this is precisely the heaviness in taking (i.e. taking the identity of the ideal) which produces the effect of an image of the body that is missing something. As such, the ideal represents the Other incarnating the ‘law’ or ‘rules’ that conduct (a great synonym for order) the subject’s direction of work, and from whom the reward is demanded.

Psychoanalyst Petros Patounas describes true desire as “asking nothing from no one”. Indeed, working towards one’s own desire does not have any reward as its aim, that is to say any object that would complete their body and bring enjoyment, because the very act of working is what makes heaven and defines the body (Patounas calls this mode of being ErgOn). It is an enjoyment independent of the Other. The expectation of a reward only comes when someone acts according to rules for trade, whereby a certain measure is applied as a unit of exchange that defines the fair compensation for the subject’s sacrifice. A sacrifice of what? That of their desire: The subject demands a reward as compensation for giving up their own desire. This of course shouldn’t be misinterpreted as “I do not give, because I don’t want to get anything back from anyone”, because it is still caught up in the discourse of fair exchange: “I don’t give” is in this case related to “I don’t get… a fair exchange”.

 

And, if this is pushed to an extreme, if one declares that something they want is of their own desire but they do nothing to achieve it, or find all sorts of excuses while blaming others, then not only is it not their desire, because blaming others means they ask others for something, but they also demand to be instantly rewarded for exchanging their subjectivity with the idealised image they believe they want.

An honourable statement against the anticipation of life in a future self, would be something that one usually hears in the aforesaid motivational quotes, but which is mostly derived from eastern thought, that one should live in the present. There is a nice play on words here whereby people in their ideal and perfect image lose their present, in both its meanings: the present as temporal and the present as gift. Gift is a nice word for the reward itself, the gift of life. Yet, this quote is often misinterpreted into another idealisation whereby one may short-circuit the ideal image into a demand to acquire absolute enjoyment now as if there is no tomorrow, which is to say that everything will end. What an ideal way to reach a goal! True present is timeless, a never ending one.

It isn’t hard for someone to distinguish what is aligned with their desire from that which is caught up in an ideal, because the experience of their effects on the body speaks for itself: Desire is about aligning one’s actions to whatever supports their breath just by doing it, that is to say, their very act is their own breath. For example, if there is any sort of pressure in helping or serving a fellow person, then there is a hidden expectation of respect and reward, even if this reward is expected from the justice of a God.

 

Christian tradition in its own terms uses the word Theosis (Θέωσις) to describe the destination of all humans, the ultimate goal, whereby one becomes a god. This is a goal beyond any idealisation, because one can only become a god when their deeds do not demand any reward from (any form of) God. And it is certain at this point that the original sin, i.e. eating the fruit that would make one a god, has been from the beginning all about aiming at the deification of oneself that has nothing to do with ‘Τheosis’ – a magnificent word for ‘Desire’ –, but with the assimilation of the object that would complete one’s ideal image to perfection.

The essay above is part of the book The Image of a Voice which is available here

'Adam and Eve'. Illustration by Stella Violari,

illustrator of the book The Image of a Voice

Split: Desire, a “bad” Valentine

 “I love you, but, because inexplicably I love in you something more than you - the object petit a - I mutilate you.”

Jacques Lacan, Seminar XI: The Four Fundamental Concepts of Psychoanalysis

Let’s simplify this by replacing the term “object petit a” with a set of desirable characteristics fantasised by the lover on the beloved person. The beloved one is here reduced into the specific part of themselves described by these idealised attributes, which for the moment we will call “good”, a part that is consequently mutilated from the whole of that person. The lover falls in love with the “good” in the beloved one and as such, “good” is what defines “love”, the “good love” [I use quotation marks to signify the idealised definitions the words receive]. In short, the fantasy of the lover chops some part of the other person, and with that part they form the whole image of the beloved.

But what happens to the part that remains outside the mutilated one? It obviously cannot be really separated; it can only be aborted in the ideal scenario where the prementioned mutilation takes place, the scenario that is called fantasy. The other part, therefore, accompanies the idealised “good” part as a shadow that every now and then makes its presence as a surprise, quite often being in the form of “bad” that brings problems within the relationship. But since the “good” had already formed some person, our beloved person, then the “bad” is perceived as another personage that the lover is unable to recognise in the beloved one and thus can only make sense as something off-character.

Hence, the beloved person is split into a double personality whereby the personality of the “good” and loveable traits is separated from the personality of the “bad” and unwanted traits. In other words, the “bad” traits are encountered as a distinct person that the lover believes they can get rid of, as if they are dealing with two persons and all they have to do is expel the one they don’t like. Even further, the lover cannot accept that the other person carries both “good” and “bad”, that is to say they are mistaken about their choice of the beloved one, because admitting the “bad” in the other means that they are at the same time admitting the “bad” or “fault” within themselves, i.e. that they picked the wrong person to love. Or, by extension, that this bad choice of them is made by a bad self whom they cannot identify with, which is the encounter with their own double personality or split-character: the good one as I would like to be seen and the bad one that must remain hidden from sight. The other person, thus, functions as a mirror in which the subject attempts to see themselves the way they want to be seen, which means that the idealisation and the ideal version of themselves is formed according to someone else’s gaze (a wish to be seen by whom?): the gaze of the Other. The ideal has never been their own and the resulted split is another name for the division of the subject.

But in the final analysis, the failure happens not because the hidden or repressed part makes its presence, i.e. the return of the repressed, but precisely because of the very idealisation of the attributes that causes the production of the repressed part: The “good” of the ideal attributes has been forcefully projected from the lover to the beloved right from the beginning by naming them as such and such, so the problem is not the “bad”, but the definition of “good” which consequently leaves a hidden part outside the visual field, the part that is then nominated as “bad”. The idealisation in the gaze of the Other makes the experience of one’s true desire, i.e. what doesn't fall into that gaze, as an encounter with something bad. After all, it is in the “bad” of the other that usually appears the realisation that this person is not for me, and perhaps that the relationship is built on idealised standards, or even further with analysis that this person does not support my desire. And if I only see “bad” in the unveiled side of the beloved, then it means that I cannot support their desire either, i.e. the part which is beyond my fantasy. At that point, a choice has to be made whether one opts for the “good” as defined by the ideal / Other with all its consequences, over being guided by their desire. Not an easy choice, because their desire only exists in what was previously characterized as aborted or unwanted part of the loveable in the ideal.

It is thus very common that people choose to turn away from their desire, preserving it in the field of the “bad”, and instead, continue staring deeper into the “good” of their beloved one which holds the ideal image of themselves. Let’s repeat that in these terms, a false definition of “love” is given, becoming synonymous to the idealised “good”. Thus, in the function of the other person as one’s mirror, 'I love the good in the other because I want to see myself / to be seen as good', which is equal to 'I love in the way I assume myself seen as loveable'. Needless to say, the “good” speaks only of a good defined by the ideal, the good of the Other and not any good for the subject. “Love” too!... within the definition is receives. The ideal binds and blinds the subject into the idealised false love in the service of the Other’s gaze (the demand to be seen in a certain way) and allows no space of desire and creation away from that. In fact, the terms “good” and “bad” here appear inverted as far as how they support the desire of the subject. The subject receives their own message back from the Other in an inverted form, Lacan says.

An analysand the other day was describing the major problems of his relationship, but then saying that he doesn’t want to break up because in his relationship there is much love. One obviously wonders how there can exist so serious problems in a relationship if the two persons love each other so much. Responding to the question about what he means when he says “love”, he states: “Love is to support each other; it is to feel each other’s pain”. This person’s true relationship was not with the other person as such, but with pain, becoming an irreducible condition for him to love the other and for himself to be loved, in such a way that in order to support this kind of love they had to inflict pain to each another so that they love each other by feeling each other’s pain. Pain thus here appears in the place of “good”, the idealised love, whereby “I love in you something more than you”. This analysand wasn’t led into analysis because of any sort of suffering brought by this fantasy, but because his partner started denying her place of pain, which for the analysand was the encounter with the part where his fantasy fails.

Would all the above mean that there should be no disagreements in a relationship? This is not true, unless one concludes into another sort of idealisation, that of the ideal relationship. On the contrary, what is highlighted is that disagreements unveil something of the way each partner’s fantasy functions. One can learn so many things about themselves through their own reflection encountered in the beloved one. So, the true question here is: does this relationship only support each other’s ideal image or is there a space of true desire, which means true love beyond the idealised one, i.e. the ideal that forces one to be seen in a certain way in order to be loved? And once you find out, what do you do about it?

[More about the function of the mirror in my upcoming publication on Lacan's concept of the Mirror Stage]