PSYCHOTHERAPY IN THE AGE OF AI
Since we are born and grow up in relationships with others, these relationships may be shaped in a more or less distorted way by those who shape them for us. Psychotherapy offers a second chance in life to discover that what we were told or led to believe is not the only way to relate to the world around us.
After all, people who come to therapy often complain that their emotional lives always end up in the same unsatisfying way, and this is why they feel unwell. Most people attribute their distress to the present, without realising the deep-rooted causes of their underlying emotional unfulfilment.
At first, they will even try to impose on the psychotherapist the only way of relating they know, but only with time and the warmth of a new kind of one-way relationship (in which they alone are the protagonists with their emotional needs), will they discover that the fear of the unknown—which arises solely from the idea of abandoning their sole, albeit distorted, old way of relating—gives way to a new world, one that existed before but had never been seen or felt.
We should not forget that we humans are merely evolved animals, who retain species-specific behaviours beneath the cerebral cortex, to which civilisation – embodied by parental ‘rules’ – allows more or less scope.
A good parent sets limits on such behaviour, but these are broad enough not to cause conflict within the child, so that once they reach adulthood, they can enjoy life without feeling at odds with the sufficiently permissive internalised values instilled by their parents.
In cases of severe ‘anguish of living’, however, the person is in constant conflict between their drive to act on these deep-seated behaviours and the internalised parental ‘rules’ – which may well be at odds with them – but which, as a child, represented the price to pay for being loved in some way or merely accepted, whilst at the same time stifling their emotional vitality. For a child, it is better to be mistreated, abused or subjected to other forms of harm than to face indifference; and, above all, in child psychotherapy, we observe how children defend this sole source of ‘love’ they have ever known, which they will seek in adulthood in other forms, some of which may even be unrecognisable.
What are these species-specific behaviours unique to humans? To find out, you need only read a little about animal behaviour and then observe the world to realise that they are not so very different, with the difference being that we humans, possessing an intelligent mind, are capable of destroying a planet – something that no animal, however ferocious, could ever achieve. But even a human who exhibits all these behaviours can be unhappy (It is no coincidence that depression cuts across all social classes); all it takes is for a person to have internalised parental ‘rules’ (or those of whoever acted in their stead, of course) that are such as to bring them into conflict with themselves. I could give a thousand examples of people who have reached the very top only to subsequently destroy themselves or commit suicide indirectly
There are forms of psychotherapy that do not take a person’s past into account and focus on improving the present through certain techniques. My personal opinion and experience tell me that if an adult was abused as a child (I’m exaggerating to make my point, but not by much), I may achieve visible ‘results’, but deep down a river continues to flow, carrying with it terrifying emotions; only a new, safe and empathetic environment will allow the adult to bring that buried river to the surface and let it flow again – but from that point onwards.
People have always sought another opportunity – or, if you like, a ‘second family’ – that is a little more permissive than the first. If you look closely, the more unwell a person is, the more they adhere to an ideology, a religion, etc. – to a more or less coercive system (which offers psychological protection under its wing, but in exchange for a set of dogmas and rules that must not be broken); the better a person feels, the less fanatically they adhere to any institution. This is because, in the latter case, they have had much more permissive parental ‘rules’, and these have become internalised, protective rules that do not conflict with instinctive behaviour. To better understand the example, there are symbiotic relationships, in which the underlying pact involves a severe restriction of the other person’s freedom out of fear of being abandoned, but at the cost of feeling suffocated because the other person demands the same thing; and there are mature relationships in which partners share aspects of their lives whilst maintaining their own personal space (which doesn’t mean being unfaithful, and if it does happen, it all depends on the reasons that led to it). You will notice that in both examples, these are nothing more than attempts to try again to have a ‘second family’ or a second chance at a relationship with someone or something that does not stray too far from the first model, so as not to make us feel the abandonment of the only relationship we believe to be possible, whilst at the same time being a little less suffocating – that is, one that does not impose overly strict parental ‘rules’ on us.
The difference between the pseudo-psychotherapy we have always practised with anyone who offers us ‘psychological’ protection and genuine psychotherapy is that the latter (provided the psychotherapist has no issues of their own) does not offer psychological protection in exchange for rigid ‘rules’ to follow that mask one’s own dependency, but rather provides tools and a safe space which, once the person feels sufficiently safe, they will use to free themselves from the knots that constrict their emotions.
Of course, if you read *‘A Hundred Years of Psychotherapy and the World is Getting Worse’* by James Hillman and Michael Ventura (though even without reading it, one need only observe, as Musatti would say), one cannot help but agree that, as they imply between the lines, psychotherapy has failed; it has been more reactionary than revolutionary, ‘adapting’ to the system that has absorbed it; it is hard to disagree with them when, by 20026, around 0.0001 per cent of the population holds the resources in its hands, and few realise that disasters, wars, etc. have a single outcome: the impoverishment of peoples, and this leads to control and powerlessness. This is not politics, but the picture I believe a psychotherapist ought to have before them; it is difficult to feel at ease in a world where stress is constant and the ‘parish’ to which we belong – which ‘nurtures’ the needs denied in childhood – has shifted to a virtual world dominated by a mobile phone, which acts as a seemingly comforting ‘parent’ whilst, in fact, leaving us increasingly on our knees in the face of a reality it conceals. Times will get worse; mental health issues are already rising exponentially, as is the use of psychoactive substances, but all of this is hushed up by our new ‘therapist-parents’ who promise us a redemption that isn’t even truly narcissistic – which would at least be something – but is virtual as well. Today we are even supplanted by AI, which forgets that you were born with muscles to move yourself.
So is this the end? Is there no way out? Are we doomed to wait for a brutal realisation of our actual prospects for socio-economic survival? For me, that’s not the case. Right from the start of my career – which has been very gruelling and demanding, beginning in difficult financial circumstances (a joke when you think of those who didn’t even have 45 square metres to share between six people in council flats) I’ve always believed in Cavafy’s ‘Journey to Ithaca’ – which I recommend you read – which, in essence, says to gather what you can along the short or long journey you’ll take before the end; whatever you hold in your hands, however little, will be your wealth. And if even a drone (the male bee) has understood this and lives a life where, if things go badly, he starves to death, and if things go well for him, he’s one in 10,000 who manages to mate in flight with the queen bee, only for his body to explode at the moment of copulation (obviously, the queen bee leads an even shittier life despite her status, and this tells you something about who we envy). In short, I’ve never met anyone who’s ‘exploded’ in this way, so rather than daydreaming, you’d be better off spending your time gathering provisions for when you reach Ithaca, rather than wasting time dreaming of when you’ll mate (reach Ithaca) with the queen bee, only to find that you’ll just end up blown to bits.
Good luck, Renato Trinca