Issue #1: The Non-Existence of Trauma

Adler asserts:

> “No experience is in itself a cause of our success or failure. We do not suffer from the shock of our experiences—the so-called trauma—but instead we make out of them whatever suits our purposes. We are not determined by our experiences, but the meaning we give them is self-determining.” (pg 12)

Upon encountering the chapter titled “Trauma Does Not Exist,” I felt an immediate surge of resistance, yet I hoped to uncover some enlightening reasoning within. Unfortunately, I found none. The philosopher suggests that our suffering merely serves as an excuse for how we live, as we have chosen to think this way.

This notion brought to mind memories of my grandmother, who was often described as sensitive and fearful of the dark. One night, I asked her about her fear, and she recounted her traumatic childhood experience fleeing to India during the 1948 riots, losing family members along the way.

How could Adler’s argument alleviate the trauma she endured? Would she genuinely be able to accept the idea that "trauma does not exist"?

> The reality is that traumas operate on a subconscious level. It seems implausible to simply convince oneself that trauma is non-existent and expect recovery. True healing requires addressing these issues at a deeper level, not merely adopting an alternative perspective, which leaves me dissatisfied.

The critical question remains: Are human minds as straightforward as Adler suggests? Can one merely declare a new personality and achieve it?

> Do you believe this is attainable?

I’m not asserting that Adler is incorrect; perhaps he is right, but the approach laid out in the book appears impractical, especially for those who have endured profound trauma.

People face wars, sexual assaults, familial violence, and other harrowing experiences.

Is it genuinely beneficial to tell individuals that trauma is a figment of their imagination? The answer is yours to decide.

Issue #2: Acknowledging Fault Is Not Weakness

I find no issue with the idea of acknowledging one’s faults. I am open to changing my views when presented with compelling logic and prefer to avoid fruitless disputes.

In addressing power dynamics, the author writes:

> “No matter how much you might think you are right, try not to criticize the other party on that basis. This is an interpersonal relationship trap that many people fall into… The moment one is convinced that ‘I am right’ in an interpersonal relationship, one has already stepped into a power struggle…” (pg 86,87)

I grasp the notion of avoiding power struggles; sometimes, it’s futile to expect others to see things from our perspective. A wise person recognizes the value of transcending petty conflicts to lead an honorable life.

Yet, I wonder about the implications and repercussions of this mindset.

While I agree that power struggles should be avoided, how does one sustain this mentality over time? Power struggles are inevitable and can breed bitterness and other negative emotions, particularly for those who constantly concede.

Some individuals in our lives—controlling parents, critical in-laws, competitive siblings, envious bosses—are prone to instigating power struggles.

> When others unleash their anger or act unjustly towards us, does this not have detrimental long-term effects on our mental well-being?

How do I reconcile feelings of being wronged repeatedly? I recognize that I can become resentful when I continually choose not to engage in conflict. How do I overcome feelings of victimization?

Am I expected to simply forget and move on, telling myself that ‘this is not trauma and it does not exist’? Once again, we return to the initial question: how feasible is that?

Dismissing power struggles outright doesn’t seem like a sustainable or comprehensive solution. We need guidance on managing the repercussions of such an approach.

Issue #3: Distinguishing Tasks

Adlerian psychology advocates for the separation of personal responsibilities from those of others and discourages interference in others' tasks. While this philosophy seems commendable in theory, its application raises questions.

The author illustrates this concept with the example of a child reluctant to study:

> “...studying is the child’s task. A parent’s handling of that by commanding the child to study is, in effect, an act of intruding on another person’s task…” (pg 121)

How should a parent respond to an unmotivated child?

The book suggests:

> “One tells the child that that is his task and one lets him know that one is ready to assist him whenever he has the urge to study. But one must not intrude on the child’s task.” (pg 123)

While I appreciate the general idea of task separation, I question whether children can accurately determine what’s best for them at a young age. Parents, as necessary guides, play a crucial role in helping children navigate their responsibilities.

I am not a parent yet, but I welcome input from those who are. Does merely telling a child that it’s their responsibility suffice?

> This reflection also highlights the intricacies of human relationships. How does the task separation philosophy apply to those who are misguided, disillusioned, or indecisive? What about individuals grappling with addiction who know their responsibilities but struggle to follow through?

Can we truly discern what our tasks are? Can a child?

Consider a moment when you needed that push to get moving. What if a friend thought, ‘that’s not my task, and I don’t need to interfere’?

> Where would we all be without someone offering us hard truths, even if it requires meddling?

While ‘separation of tasks’ sounds appealing in theory, its execution in the complex tapestry of life appears idealistic.

Issue #4: The Dynamics of Relationships

In this segment, the philosopher reflects on his tumultuous relationship with his father, who was abusive during his childhood. The philosopher contends that attributing their troubled relationship to his father's actions is a Freudian cause-and-effect perspective. Instead, he believes that he recalls his father’s abuse because he is unwilling to improve their relationship.

When he resolved to mend their bond, he chose to overlook his father’s reactions and thoughts. Essentially, the philosopher changed his attitude towards the relationship without altering his father.

He states:

> “Even if I change, it is only ‘I’ who changes. I do not know what will happen to the other person as a result, and that is not an aspect I can take part in.” (pg 150)

My immediate thought was: how true, yet how simplistic. The reality is that many families are dysfunctional to varying degrees. While these ideas may look appealing in theory, I question whether real-life relationships are as straightforward as the author implies.

There are various reasons for this. Relationship issues are often persistent problems. Typically, if one has a complicated relationship with their parents, it stems from their inherent nature rather than a singular past event. For instance, a close friend struggles with a borderline-narcissistic mother. How can she apply this philosopher's advice? Even in harmonious families, disagreements arise among family members, making interpersonal challenges an ongoing endeavor.

> How do we truly separate tasks in such situations? How does one 'repair' a convoluted family relationship based on task separation?

Furthermore, the philosopher advises against allowing others to interfere with our responsibilities, which could lead to power struggles, particularly with a parent. At the same time, he discourages criticizing a parent, as this could also create conflict.

How does one navigate the tasks of a parent with a differing perspective, especially if their motivations are rooted in care? How do we communicate our need for task separation to a well-meaning but intrusive parent?

The truth is, communication is intricate, especially within families. Real-life interpersonal dynamics are rarely as simple as forgiving an abusive parent and moving on as if nothing occurred.

Issue #5: Avoiding Rebuke and Praise

A cornerstone of Adlerian philosophy is to cultivate horizontal relationships. In contrast, vertical relationships occur when one party perceives themselves as superior to the other, often demonstrated through praise or criticism.

The author states:

> “In Adlerian psychology, we take the stance that in childrearing, and in all other forms of communication with other people, one must not praise… One must not praise, and one must not rebuke.” (pg 178, 179)

But why is this stance taken?

The philosopher explains:

> “In the act of praise, there is the aspect of it being ‘the passing of judgment by a person of ability on a person of no ability’.” (pg 179)

> “When one praises another, the goal is ‘to manipulate someone who has less ability than you’. It is not done out of gratitude or respect.” (pg 179, 180)

> “Adlerian psychology refutes all manner of vertical relationships and proposes that all interpersonal relationships be horizontal relationships.” (pg 180)

I cite these passages extensively to provide a balanced perspective of their philosophy rather than appearing unfoundedly critical. The notion of horizontal relationships may lead to a better world, but the idea of eliminating praise and rebuke seems overly rigid.

It is inaccurate to claim that all praise is rooted in manipulation. For instance, I recently praised a filmmaker for their exceptional dialogue writing. What could my motivation be other than genuine admiration for their art?

What about sincere praise for a sibling's accomplishments? Can rebuke also serve a constructive purpose, such as guiding a friend who struggles to acknowledge their role in their challenges?

Overall, my primary concern throughout this book is that it proposes radical principles without offering guidance on their practical application or addressing my pressing concerns related to implementing these ideas.

General Comments

This article is not intended to disparage the book. Adlerian philosophy contains valuable, transformative insights, which I will explore in a separate post.

In its defense, the book acknowledges that grasping and applying Adlerian philosophy is no simple feat. Embracing this philosophy may require relinquishing key relationships and other vital aspects of life, but it promises mental liberation and genuine happiness.

Another noteworthy point is that, according to Adler, it takes half of one's age in years to fully internalize Adlerian philosophy. Given the simplicity of its principles and the intricacies of human existence, I believe it will take me a lifetime to attempt this.

I do not assert that implementing Adlerian philosophy is impossible; rather, it may not be suitable for everyone. One's affinity for it will depend on their temperament. Those who approach relationships in a more straightforward manner may resonate with it more deeply, while those like me, who are driven by emotions and instincts, may struggle significantly.

> People come in diverse shades: some are more sensitive than others. Some flourish on encouragement and praise, and these individuals may find it challenging to engage with this book. We are all simply built differently.

The Adlerian approach may work exceptionally well on a communal scale. If an entire family commits to the philosophy of task separation, it could yield positive results. However, on an individual level, navigating this philosophy may present a formidable and arduous challenge.