Greetings, all! Sorry it’s been a while; teaching @ Halstrom (my new job) has kept me pretty busy.

Two weeks or so ago, I had a minor revelation about psychology in literature; I will share those thoughts with you now.

Most are familiar with the superego-ego-id imagery presented by the media; we see it portrayed as an argument between “angel” and “devil” personalities. The superego always urges us to do the “right thing” as determined by a higher sense of right and wrong, while the id encourages instant fulfillment of immediate, basic desires. The ego listens to both voices and ultimately determines which one will win and thus influence the choices made on their advice.

A prime example of this pattern is in the Disney film, “The Emperor’s New Groove”:

Kronk is debating whether or not to save Kuzco from a deadly plunge over a waterfall; he serves as the ego, or core personality, while the Shoulder Angel and Shoulder Devil represent the superego and id, respectively.

In a way, the relationship is similar to a monarch and their advisers.

However, as history notes, the monarch may be strong or weak, and in the psychological sense, a weak monarch/ego is open to bad suggestions from an adviser with ulterior motives (the id).

This imagery is more subtlety shown in other media, both written and visual.

Those who are familiar with Dr. Seuss will readily understand this next comparison:

In “The Cat in the Hat” story, the Cat represents the wild/crazy id, the Fish represents the proper/strict superego, and the two children are the ego who make choices based on the influence of each side.

One of the most famous (and tragic) examples is in Robert Louis Stevenson’s masterpiece “The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde”:

Part of the tragedy is that Jekyll loses control of Hyde, and eventually he becomes Hyde permanently. However, let us take a closer look at the relationship between the two.

Stevenson, speaking as Dr. Gabriel Utterson, one of Jekyll’s friends, walks us through Jekyll’s account of his transformation. Utterson serves as the superego, while Jekyll himself is the ego and Hyde, obviously, is the id. The trouble is, Henry Jekyll fails to recognize his own divided nature, instead identifying himself and Hyde as “good” and “evil” twins.

It is only later that he seems to address his error, by which point it is too late. Jekyll admits that other people are repulsed by Hyde because, unlike others (who are a mixture of “good” and “evil”), Hyde is pure evil. By failing to see this, Hyde’s dominance of Jekyll slowly advances until Henry Jekyll must take his formula to remain himself. When it runs out, he becomes Hyde permanently.

Another famous book that is more subtle displaying the psychological relationship was written by children’s author Roald Dahl.

In the Chocolate Factory, Charlie is the ego, the parents and Wonka himself are the superego, and the other four children (Augustus, Violet, Veruca, and Mike) are the id. As the book progresses, the four “id” characters are removed one by one as they proceed to immediately satisfy each of their desires despite ample warning from the superego characters.

The final example is from the dystopian novel, “Lord of the Flies.” The movie brings out the imagery in a more recognizable manner.

Ralph, on the far left, is the ego; he adapts to life on the island (wearing fewer clothes, searching for food, etc.), but tries to maintain some sense of order. Behind him, Piggy (the fat boy) serves as the superego, reminding the boys that their behavior is slipping away from the societal norm. On the far right stands Jack, the head choir boy who quickly leads the others into savagery; his actions show that he represents the id – stealing Piggy’s glasses to make fire, leading hunts rather than build a signal fire or shelters, and finally initiating a wild rampage of war that destroys the island.

In each example, we see the conflict between opposing sides of the mind; ultimately, the ego is responsible – and held accountable – for the decision made. A key quote from King Baldwin IV in “The Kingdom of Heaven” exemplifies this:

“A king may move a man, a father may claim a son, but that man can also move himself, and only then does that man truly begin his own game. Remember that howsoever you are played or by whom, your soul is in your keeping alone, even though those who presume to play you be kings or men of power. When you stand before God, you cannot say, ‘But I was told by others to do thus,’ or that virtue was not convenient at the time. This will not suffice. Remember that.”

Recently, I taught my first psychology class at my new teaching position. In the course of the lesson, I saw a correlation between Maslow’s Hiearchy of Needs and the progression of the four loves.

Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs

In the Greek language, there are four different words for “love,” each with its own context or application. When viewed together, there is a progression from the self outward.

Eros – love of self, base word of “erratic” Examples: Ebenezer Scrooge, the Grinch

Storge – close-knit family love

Phileo – fraternal love (between friends)

Agape – sacrificial, ever-giving love

In Christianity, we learn that we are selfish beings due to our fallen nature; when we accept Jesus as our Savior and the divine nature of God is reawakened in us, we learn to grow and expand our love. Jesus’ second commandment to us is our starting point; “love your neighbor as yourself,” means that we give the care and provision we would provide for ourselves and direct it outward. In the end, God means for us to arrive at “agape,” which is the way He loves all of us.

An interesting historical question to ask: what was the point of the Cold War, and did it accomplish anything?

Some postulate that the Cold War was about the Allies halting the spread of communism, while others might say that it was a consequence from the political fallout after World War II (once Hitler was gone, our Soviet ally, Stalin, became the new enemy). Basically, it was a clash of cultures – republican capitalism on one side, oligarchic communism on the other. Since neither would tolerate the other’s existence in the short or long term, the race to outdo and/or destroy the other side began. Cartoonist Bill Watterson used Calvin and Hobbes to show the mentality of the Cold War and the ultimate end if it ever turned “hot”:

Author Ted Geisel (Dr. Seuss) found an interesting way to present this conflict in his controversial (for its time) book, “The Butter Battle.” He portrays a mirrored conflict between opposing worldviews in the Yooks and Zooks, who eat their bread with the butter side up or down, respectively.

When a small shot is fired, each side works to construct bigger, more powerful weapons to promote their side’s agenda; eventually, they manufacture the ultimate weapon – the Bitsy Big-Boy Boomeroo, a grape-sized mixture of chemicals emblematic of the nuclear bomb. The story ends with the then-state of affairs of stalemate – which, in essence, is the logical conclusion – unless one or both sides choose to actually unleash the weapon of ultimate destruction.

Interestingly, C.S. Lewis speculated about such an event in his sixth book about Narnia, “The Magician’s Nephew.” Remember Jadis (the White Witch) from “The Lion, the Witch, and the Waredrobe?”

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In his sixth book, C.S. Lewis takes a step back and tells the backstory of how Jadis came to be in Narnia. Digory Kirke (the Professor from LWW) finds out that his uncle is a magician and has rings that can take people into other worlds. In an old, dying world named Charn, he and his friend Polly encounter Jadis. She recounts how Charn was shattered by a civil war between herself and her sister; Jadis used a doomsday weapon – the Deplorable Word, which destroyed all life except the one who spoke it. Digory and Polly accidentally bring Jadis back to our world, then into Narnia when it is being made. It is there – thanks to another fateful choice on her part – that she becomes the White Witch.

At the very end of the book, after Aslan has taken measures to protect Narnia for a while, he takes Digory and Polly back to our world, but not before warning them about how worlds can come to a terrible end.

“They looked and saw a little hollow in the grass, with a grassy bottom, warm and dry.
‘When you were last here,’ said Aslan, ‘that hollow was a pool, and when you jumped into it you came to the world where a dying sun shone over the ruins of Charn. There is no pool now. That world is ended, as if it had never been. Let the race of Adam and Eve take warning.’
‘Yes, Aslan,’ said both the children. But Polly added, ‘But we’re not quite as bad as that world, are we?”
“Not yet, Daughter of Eve, not yet; but you are growing more like it. It is not certain that some wicked one of your race will not find out a secret as evil as the Deplorable Word and use it to destroy all living things. And soon, very soon, before you are an old man and an old woman, great nations in your world will be ruled by tyrants who care no more for joy and justice and mercy than the Empress Jadis. Let your world beware.”