Despite all these protestations we are left with a feeling that he is not really trying, that he is somehow pretending to himself that he is searching for work.
OK, so he now admits he has a problem, but externalises it: maybe by calling it “a run of bad luck”, or himself being “a victim of our corrupt capitalist system” or “typical inverted snobbery against Oxbridge graduates”. If he does come to own the problem it amounts to total identification with it: “I’m just a loser, I haven’t got a chance”.
As independent witnesses, however, we recognise that he is part of the problem but is not identical to it. Being aware of a problem does help distinguish oneself from it, so we might decide it is his “attitude” or his “commitment” that is at fault.
But what I am now suggesting is that he should externalise the problem in a different way, by calling it a demon. This guy has a demon that is persuading him he ought to get a job while sabotaging his efforts. The demon has occupied the space between desiring employment and failing to get it, and is quite comfortable in that niche. If our hero were to get a job, that space would close up and the demon would have to go or else adapt—maybe making him dissatisfied with the job he now has. So it is in the demon’s interest to keep him failing to get work. Equally, the gap would close if he were to give up wanting a job, so the demon wants to keep him trying.
This illustrates the fact that demons usually like to be left alone in their niche. The best option for this demon is that the hero just keeps trying and keeps failing, but it is not that simple. Our hero is a human intelligence that detects patterns and needs the stimulus of new approaches from time to time and this tends to raise the stakes. So, the way things are going, he might take to drugs to relieve the pain of not getting a job, and the resulting changes to his character make him even less employable. Then there is the possibility of suicide attempts, and maybe turning to crime.
If the demon wants to be left alone, the first problem will be how to convince our hero that there really is a demon. This is why he either projects the problem out by saying that he is simply unlucky, or a victim of society, or else totally takes over the problem by saying he’s a no-good loser. Whereas I say that he has a demon—a third thing that is neither fully out there nor fully him. The situation is summarised in this diagram—a whole host of “simple explanations” lie out there trying to tempt us away from the central realisation that he has a demon.
“Tempt us away”? that’s a curious way to put it —but it reflects the fact that all those other simple explanations are themselves just demons trying to attract our attention—an important extension of the argument but one that we put aside for the time being and will return to later.
So the next problem is to resist our own rationalising habits described in the introduction—the tendency encouraged by our religious and scientific culture to analyse and dissect rather than to personify. The questions it raises are along these lines: “but what exactly is this demon? Is it a problem in society or is it an unconscious complex?”. Is he not getting a job because he is a personification of youthful rebellion, a principle that could actually regenerate some hidebound organisation were it not for the fact that the establishment resists change and will refuse such people a job rather than accept the challenge of employing them? Or is he a mummy’s boy who doesn’t want to leave home but makes feeble little efforts in order to win mummy’s approval, while failing in order to qualify for her protection?
Stop it! I say. The answer to these questions does not matter. Don’t dissect the demon, speak to it. There are many other approaches to the problem that involve analysis at this stage, but I am describing a particular one that requires the problem to be addressed in its own right. At this stage it is actually better to picture the demon as a little horned being lurking behind our hero and ready to leap out and pitchfork his prospects, than it is to attempt to explain it away.
Instead of analysing the demon we analyse its relationship with our hero. This is how the personifying approach handles the logical dilemma of something that is “neither fully out there nor fully him”, it does so by projecting the demon out there while allowing it to be in personal relationship with him. The demon is seen as his partner—that is how it is neither fully out there nor fully him.
Partnership is not one-sided, it is not a victim state. Realising that fact provides the key to working with the demon. It can only have power over your life because it has paid for that power. The demon is providing some sort of service.
Demonic services can be broken into two categories—providing pleasure and avoiding pain. Better to avoid the loaded words “pleasure” and “pain” and simply say that demonic services are based upon feeding and avoiding.
In this case the demon is helping him to avoid change, avoid having to give up time to work, avoid having to commit to a career amongst others. It is feeding his sense of being a victim, a tragic hero, of being “too clever” or of being a failure. We don’t yet know which are the crucial exchanges in this case, but this is where we will start searching.
But it is also where we have to get ready to abandon our hero. Because the relationship with a demon is intensely personal in detail—only he can sort it out, not us, and there is no ultimate formula beyond this point.
So what does he actually do? that’s the question which arises again and again, but all I can reliably answer is “personify the problem: treat it as an equal, an intelligent, aware being until evidence consistently proves otherwise”.
Unless the person is exceptionally gifted, or unlucky, he won’t actually see the demon and hear its voice. He can speak to it—out loud is good, provided no-one else is around to make it embarrassing!
The answers can come in various ways, but it is worth remembering that demons usually prefer to hide. We are dealing with something akin to a wild person or animal that runs away when we actually address it.
So what would you do with a wild creature? You would stalk it, follow its tracks and be subtle.
The tracks of a demon can show in various ways. One we have already seen—in this case it was a string of missed job opportunities. Often the demon manipulates us through feelings: feelings so familiar as to be almost invisible. So I would advise our hero to look closely at his feeling reactions to certain aspects of his failed job hunt.
When one of his carefully worded job applications is met with a crude rejection, or even totally ignored, what does he feel? Anger? Where does that anger go? Inwards? Outwards? Is it dissipated or stored? Where is it dissipated or stored?
How also does he feel when an application is turned down, but in a really sympathetic and humane way—maybe with a genuine-sounding regret that the post has already been filled and “may we keep your details on file in case another vacancy arises”? Does he still feel angry in that case? or does he feel a subtle sense of relief? That would be a clue!
When his father asks how the job hunt is going, how does he feel? Does he relish telling father how it has failed? Is there a hint of “you smug smartiboots bastard—look what a fucking failure your son has turned out to be!” in his response? That too would be a clue.
A letter comes back from a company—don’t rush to open it, hold it in your hand trying to sense what it will say, and trying to anticipate what you really want it to say, and how you will react to it.
I say it again—we can go no further at this point because the relationship is a personal one—and that is what makes it so meaningful to him and so arbitrary to us. So we must leave him at this point and return to general comment on how to handle demons.
DEMON? WHAT DEMON?
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