Addiction - Universal, Versatile, And Unsurprising; We Are All Addicted To Something

Lindsey Fowler had what the psychiatrist called ‘an unhealthy dependence on his mother’ – in a somewhat dated term, ‘tied to her apron strings’ seemingly forever.  As much as the psychiatrist tried to ‘unpack’ the relationship, to disaggregate oppressive motherlove from filial dependency, he could only come up with a ‘practical paradigm’.  Whatever the dynamics between mother and son, Lindsey would have to put his early years past him and move on. Easier said than done, of course, and Lindsey’s doctor, a committed, lifelong Freudian, found it hard to put his patient aside so easily.  The Master himself had suggested that finding the kernel of truth amidst a thicket of emotional brambles and layers of subterranean caves and crevasses would take a lifetime’s work.

Sons and Lovers, D.H. Lawrence’s first important book, a thinly-disguised autobiography of the author’s unhealthy relationship with his mother, is all about mutual dependency.  Paul Morel could no sooner escape from his mother’s clutches than she could resist extending them.  They needed each other, could not do without each other, and were willing partners in a destructive relationship.  Paul was addicted to his mother, and no matter how much Paul resented her calculating and selfish domineering of him, his brothers, and his father, he could not break away.

As with all addictions, the drug of choice is pleasurable and satisfying; and while the addict may understand how unhealthy and ultimately destructive his dependency is, he cannot resist.  For motherlove to be a drug, it had to be intimate, sexual, dominant, and essential.  Even Mrs. Morel’s stifling, choking, and complete selfishness was never considered as such by the naïve, persistently immature Paul.   For him his mother was not only his parent, not only responsible for his birth and upbringing, but somehow psychically irreplaceable – the sine qua non of his life.

As he grew older, Paul tried to compromise his growing sexual interest in women with his complete dependency on his mother.  There might be a way, he reasoned, to accommodate the two – to satisfy his mother’s insatiable demands and to work out a more mutual relationship with others. 

His addiction was deep-seated, established from his first suckling and even before – some random combination of bits of ancestral genes gave him a proclivity to addiction.  Neither one of his brothers suffered from the same affliction, and each were quite easily able to make their own way.  As much as their mother tried to keep them closeted and close, she was unable to rein in children who were so temperamentally and  biologically different.

Coriolanus is a play about the same perversion of mother love.  Volumnia, Coriolanus’ mother has even more control over a son who is not simply, like Paul Morel, one of many but one of Rome’s anointed, a military hero, and destined for imperial greatness.  Coriolanus is addicted to his mother, dependent on her love, her support, and her loyalty; but because of his addiction he cannot see her manipulative devices, self-centered and selfish motives, and willingness to see him die if it means her success.

Other men of Lindsey’s generation were addicted to other less personally emotional things – movements, causes, good works.  Enlistment in the environmental movement meant far more to them than simple membership.  It provided such a measure of self-worth that the most passionate adherents could not possibly trade it in for something more prosaic and ordinary.   Belonging to a movement which was existential if not spiritual in nature conferred a sanctification, a holy mission, and an extraordinary promise.  Doing without this sense of vital self-worth, the camaraderie and brotherhood of fellow members, and the accolades of those not on the front lines would involve the worst kind of withdrawal.

Many evangelicals who believe in Christ’s imminent Second Coming, who have established a personal relationship with him, and who rely on him for every one of their needs, cannot possibly be convinced of the mythology of faith – the very likely possibility that the Bible, both Old and New Testaments, are powerful, transcendent myths and nothing more.  They have become addicted to Jesus, and without him and his promise of redemption, salvation, and heavenly glory, they would be not only lost but as painfully removed from this divine drug as any heroin addict.

It is human to be addicted, although historically mediated.  There was no such thing as romantic love before Petrarch and his love sonnets written in the 14th century – no pining for maidens in the tower, no longing, no chivalric heroism, no desperate, inconsolable loss of love.  The drug of romantic love, introduced by a Medieval Italian poet, has been one of the most successful, popular, and addictive of any. 

There was no such thing as romantic love before the days of heraldic chivalry, and then only in the royal courts.  Peasants who led short, nasty, brutish, and solitary lives, had no time for romance.  Marriage was a social and economic affair, sex and desire a matter of procreation or satisfaction; and so it has continued for centuries.  But as wealth and leisure expand exponentially, so does demand for the drug of romance.  We cannot do without it, feel deprived, lost, and anemic.  Once we have tasted it, we can never again do without it.  It is a signifier of existence, nothing less.

The more common and better-known addictions to drugs, tobacco, and alcohol, are nothing compared to the dependency on love, purpose, and mothers.  Although such physical addictions lead to disease, crime, social dysfunction, and disorder; withdrawal from them is painfully difficult; and recidivism high, they are but extreme examples of human dependency.  Most people keep their unhealthy dependencies in check, or simply live with them.  A man immoderately attached to his mother will be distraught when she dies and the withdrawal symptoms will last until he dies.  In other words he, unlike recovering drug addicts, can never recover.  Emotional dependency is a lifetime affair. 

Even the moderately addicted – those dependent on social movements, progress, and utopian promise – refuse to examine any new facts that may suggest a less potent argument for climate change, global warming, or the destruction of the earth’s resources.  Such consideration would be to dilute the drug, to lessen the rush, and to feel the beginnings of painful withdrawal.

It is no shame to be addicted, for we are all addicted to something, to someone, or to some idea however far-fetched.  It is very human to need pleasure and satisfaction; and it is rare indeed to find individuals whose desires are helter-skelter, unformed and undirected; individuals who are not addicted to anything but take what comes their way.

Most of us want to be addicted to something, to be less responsible for living in a directionless even valueless world.  The dope addicts only serve as a warning.

Abortion, Marx, And Women’s Rights

The issue of reproductive rights has always been a contentious one.  Progressive activists have insisted that abortion be guaranteed while conservatives have refused.  A fetus, they argued, has rights from conception, separate and distinct from its mother.  Its only reproductive right is to be born.  Progressive women decided long ago that life does not begin at conception but at birth; and therefore there are no additional rights to consider.  If the fetus is a non-entity and a non-being, then it has no place at the table.  Seats are reserved for those female human beings viable and independent outside the womb.

As an extension of this progressive argument, activists have stated that once the reproductive rights of the mother have been established and confirmed (i.e. she has deliberated abortion but decided to bring the pregnancy to term) ,  these rights automatically convey to the infant.  Girls need all the help they can get in our patriarchal society, and looking out for their interests must begin early.  It is the fetus which has no rights.



Yet what if life begins at conception?  It is certainly not unreasonable to consider the fact that an embryo which grows, differentiates, and ultimately prospers in the womb, is in fact a being.

There are many arguments and counter-arguments surrounding the issue.  Many pro-choice activists consider the fetus no more than insensate flesh and blood.  Until it is born and helped to breathe and cry, it has been never been alive; and in moral and ethical terms has been worth no more than an appendix or a gall bladder.  What is the most defining feature of a human being, they ask? Intelligence, sensibility, reason, and thought.  Since a fetus has none of the above attributes, so is not yet human.

Ah, say those who oppose abortion.  What about potentiality?  Is there not an ethical and moral issue here?  Even if a fetus only realizes its intellectual potential after birth, how can one justify the negation of that possibility.  Forget about future Einsteins or Bachs, the fetus might become a being even more important and relevant than genius– a compassionate soul; a spiritual seer; a preacher of values; a worker of secular miracles.  Doesn’t even a secular society have  stake in the preservation of potential life?

No, say progressive pro-choice advocates who look to Marx for whom potentiality had no meaning. Human beings are born and are from the moment of birth influenced by the socio-cultural and economic forces around them.  There is nothing special or God-given about a newborn child; and his development will depend on the nature of the society into which he comes.  Any newborn is equal to any other; and subject to either the progressive, socialist societies which will nurture him and encourage his contribution according to his abilities but more importantly according to society’s needs; or subject to anti-historical, retrograde capitalism.



The difference in viewpoints could not be more stark. On the one hand, religious conservatives believe that from the moment of conception, God has conferred life; and any of God’s creations have a moral destiny and a potential rendezvous in Heaven. Progressives believe that fertilization, conception, and birth are matters of human fertility, no more no less.  Life indeed begins at birth when the newborn takes his place in the society of men and no sooner.

Yet despite these profound philosophical differences, why should those women advocating a pro-life position be excluded from the discussions on women’s rights?  Women who decide against abortion and choose to give birth to a child should have equal social rights to those who do not.  Child care, easy adoption procedures, counseling should be as much a part of women’s rights as the right to terminate a pregnancy. Women who opt for having children and who demand a more family-friendly work environment should be in lockstep with all women who have no children but who want equal pay for equal work – a sisterhood of common interests.

Yet pro-life women are excluded from Women’s Marches, colloquia, and debate.  For those who are pro-choice, a woman’s unique and sovereign control of her own body is undeniable, absolute, and permanent.  Any discussion about fetal rights, the rights of the father, or a woman’s right to choose birth is tabled.  It is settled science, philosophy, morality, and principle.  Worse, it is exclusionary, elitist, and self-defeating.

The reason why the reproductive rights door has been so firmly closed has nothing to do with these rights, abortion, or child care.  It has to do with doctrinal purity, political solidarity, and the incorrigibility of principle.  The progressive canon has been explicated, promoted, and disseminated widely.  There are those who buy in, support, and defend it; and those who do not.  But the ranks have long ago closed.  Membership in the progressive club requires certain credentials, and pro-choice is one of them.

It is of no consequence that women who choose to bring their babies to term have rights that have been either ignored, abrogated, or dismissed.  It matters not that pro-life women have legitimate moral, ethical, and spiritual claims.  It matter least that these women have espoused a moral principle as valid as that of their pro-choice sisters if not more.

The recent Women’s Marches were organized not so much as protests for women’s rights as to promote and demand fulfillment of a particular progressive political agenda.  Abortion rights, it is argued, are no different from other women’s rights – equal opportunity, freedom from sexual abuse and intimidation, and freedom to choose from a variety of gender alternatives.  Abortion rights and women’s rights are smaller parts of a larger vision – one of inclusivity and identity with related causes.  Those who understand and promote women’s rights naturally turn to gay rights, environmental rights, and human rights.  Taken at its broadest, this political vision has as its foundation anti-capitalism, a socio-economic system which favors only the few, the privileged, and the fortunate.  It is no wonder, then, that conservative groups are excluded.  Marx again rears his head.



This is all understandable.  All social groups need cohesion, solidarity, and philosophical purity.  Marches always are exclusive and tend to marginalize those who do not espouse their principles and purpose.  Marchers want the same solidarity, the same camaraderie, and the same sisterhood. Marching is always done less for political purpose than for social coherence.

More than most issues facing the American electorate, abortion is the most divisive.  Deciding it must necessarily include considerations of science, morality, ethics, justice, civil and individual rights, and religion – and since people rarely agree on any one of these factors, agreeing on all of them is almost impossible.  And given the nature of abortion – or more aptly put, the nature of life – compromise comes with difficulty if at all.

Old Testament Myth, And The Persistent Ethos Of Vengeance, Retribution, And Righteousness

If one only read the New Testament – the good news of Jesus Christ and his promises of redemption from sin and salvation; his messages of brotherhood, compassion, and sympathy – and accepted his word that with his coming a new more generous covenant between God and Man had been concluded – the world would be looked at within a hopeful, loving perspective.  If one only loved Jesus unequivocally, without reservations or restraint, his grace would be forthcoming and the Kingdom of Heaven would be within reach.

But what about Yahweh?  His vision of righteousness as expressed in the Old Testament is entirely different.  In the Book of Exodus God makes it quite clear – Israelites are his chosen people, and he will do anything to restore them to the promised land of Canaan.  It is not enough for God to persuade Pharaoh to let his people go – to negotiate their release from servitude, perhaps compensate Pharaoh for the loss of Jewish labor, provide him decades of good harvests – or even to intimidate and threaten the regime.  He visits ten deadly plagues on Egypt, each more deadly and destructive than the next. Yet, despite the decimation of thousands of innocent Egyptians, Pharaoh remains firm and refuses to let the Jews leave.  Only after the tenth plague, ‘Death of the Firstborn’ after which ‘there was not a house without someone dead’ (NRSV), did Pharaoh relent.  Not only did God destroy the Egyptians by plague, but he tells the departing Israelites to plunder Egyptian wealth and to take all their gold and silver. Those few who have survived his vengeance should be left with nothing.



If that was not enough, and had he not inflicted enough pain and suffering on the Egyptian people, Yahweh drowns the entire Egyptian army pursuing the Israelites across the now-parted Red Sea.  Again, Yahweh’s actions are brutal, uncompromising, and vengeful.  Whereas there might have been many ways to save his people and assure their safe passage to Canaan, he chose massive, total destruction.  In the Song of Moses, the author tells of Yahweh’s power:

‘Horse and rider he has thrown into the sea’…The LORD is a warrior…Your right hand shattered the enemy…You overthrew your adversaries, you sent out your fury, it consumed them like stubble…You blew with your wind, the sea covered them, they sank like lead in the mighty waters…”

This, for all its vengeful destruction, is mild compared to later books of the Old Testament. “They devoted the city to the Lord and destroyed with the sword every living thing in it—men and women, young and old, cattle, sheep and donkeys (Joshua 6) or the destruction of Gibeon and the slaughter of its inhabitants (Joshua 10). Many more such bloody, uncompromised battles are described in Judges. Even in Exodus, the slaughter of Israel’s enemies is demanded by God - “…You shall utterly demolish them and break their pillars in pieces” (Exodus 23:23).

Centuries of scholarly exegesis have parsed every verse of Exodus, Joshua, Deuteronomy, and other books dealing with the Old Testament covenant, the power of an almighty and unforgiving God, and his absolute mastery over the world he created.  Not only did he destroy the Egyptians, but the entire populations of Sodom and Gomorrah and most extreme of all, the entire world in the Flood.  Far less punishment and certainly far less death and destruction might well have convinced impenitent citizens to reform, but it seems that penitence and reform were not Yahweh’s point.  Only the vengeful slaughter of those who defied him would do. 



If the New Testament is to be believed, none of Yahweh’s threats, intimidation, and annihilation had any effect.  Jerusalem as Jesus found it was a corrupt, idol-worshipping, sacrificial, hidebound and legalistic society that offered no real promises to its people.  Given the long trajectory of a venal, aggressive, brutal, territorial, and vengeful human history, one has to conclude that Jesus’ message has had little impact as well; and one wonders if the ethos of the Old Testament isn’t somehow more appropriate.  If the world has only responded to the sword; if aggression always has been met with military force; and if world peace – or at least peaceful accommodation – has never been realized, then if there is a testament to be read and considered, it is the Old one.   Over two thousand years of Christianity have resulted in nothing but continual war, violence, disharmony, civil unrest, and geopolitical division.

This is not to say that Christianity has not fulfilled Christ’s spiritual promises.  Millions have had faith in him and have devoted their lives to him, fully expectant of a life forever after with him in his Kingdom.   It is only that Christ’s social messages, while never as punitive as the God of the Old Testament – any message that contains the hope of redemption can never be irredeemable – have had little or no impact.  While Yahweh demanded allegiance and threatened destruction if it were not accorded, Jesus asked for the same devotion but voluntarily.  He encouraged faithfulness by example and benign miracles, whereas Yahweh’s miracles were devastating, destructive, and intimidating.  Therein lies the greatest distinction between the two religious traditions.

For the non-believer, such distinctions are only matters for academic discussion – the nature of religious myth, its origins, spread, and institutionalization.   The academician is more interested in relevant questions of political ethos, the nature of power and rule.  How was it that a brutal Pharaoh listened to the fabricated story of Jewish fertility made by low-class midwives in answer to his question about why there were still Jewish boys being born and surviving? Is it plausible that a highborn daughter of Pharaoh be willing to risk her father’s wrath to save the little Jewish baby? How was it that he did not realize that he was dealing with a supernatural power even after the first plague? What was it about this tribe of displaced Israelites that had such tenacity, discipline, patience, and enterprise?  Where do history and myth coincide in the Book of Exodus?



For the believer, none of these mythological discrepancies make any difference whatsoever.  There can be no questioning either God’s justice or his reasoning.

For the third estate – those that read both Old and New Testaments as derived myth – and ask which version is a closer representation of life and history (as all myths must do), it is hard to answer anything but the Old Testament.  It’s uncompromising, unyielding, and absolute righteousness is a tale of today.  What powerful world leader is without such purposefulness and determination to pursue what he knows to be right?  Where, even in the most Catholic countries, are the social exhortations of Jesus (brotherhood, tolerance, community, compassion) ever followed?

In other words Old Testament myth endures and continues to have resonance and salience because it reflects human activity which itself has not changed since the beginning of human history.

Last but not least it is hard to ignore the history of modern-day Israel which in many ways is reflective of the Book of Exodus.  Never mind the obvious. Egypt has until recently always been an enemy and an aggressor; Israel’s right to sovereignty and nationhood has always been rejected by its Arab neighbors; bloody wars have been fought with all invaders to assure this right.  It is the lessons of Israel, so reminiscent of the Old Testament, that give the myth even more pertinence.  Nations have always fought for their right to survive; and while many have overstepped this legitimate purpose and expanded their territories farther than necessary for self-protection, the purpose itself has never been challenged.



Although Christianity was spread in the first centuries of its existence through evangelism – Paul was a genius at promotion, marketing, management, and institutional development – it was as militant as any in its later decades.  The Crusades were nothing but  military excursions to secure geo-political and economic hegemony.  The Vatican has always, throughout its history been politically minded, ruthless, and demanding.  Its ultimate conflict with Henry VIII was simply a long time coming but inevitable.

So, for lessons about humanity, human history, and human development, one should first turn to the Old Testament and perhaps go no farther.