by Connie Zweig
Doing shadow-work, Sid sorted out the voice of his father as a character at the table, which criticized him relentlessly about his incompetence. He began to see that his drivenness stemmed in part from a child’s need to win approval from his father, but his father was long since dead. In addition, he had projected these feelings of inferiority, internalized from his father’s voice, onto Peggy: His shadowy fears of inadequacy and failure were attributed to her, freeing him to feel superior and therefore worthy of more money and credit. But at the same time, this unconscious pattern left him feeling resentful and alone, as if the collaborators were not on the same team.
During Sid’s childhood, his father had perpetrated this pattern with his mother as well, forcing her to feel inferior by projecting his own anxieties. Weary of criticism and devaluing, Sid’s mother had withdrawn years ago into alcohol and depression, becoming unable to defend her young son against his father’s verbal onslaught. Carrying on this family sin today in the collaboration, Sid had become his father and turned Peggy into his mother.
But Peggy did not engage the pattern: As the inventor of their product, she insisted on respect for her contribution and on equal financial return. As a solution to the money issue, she proposed escalating payments to Sid after a particular income level had been reached in the future.
Sid decided to continue to invest in the project part-time, pursuing other work as well. In that way, he felt less obligated and less resentful toward Peggy, so that his insidious power shadow retreated. But he also came to see the profound difficulty of honoring agreements that end up feeling deeply unfair to him. He had entered into this agreement too quickly and too blindly and would not do so again.
AN ARCHETYPAL PERSPECTIVE ON WORK
Just as each god and goddess has a particular style of falling in love, expressing sexuality, or becoming a friend, each also has a unique way of working, which reflects differing attitudes toward change, motivation, and power. In our culture, the Greek Titan Prometheus first comes to mind because he signifies progress, the rational and technological mastery of nature, the reduction of culture to commodity. It is he who stands behind our bottom-line ethos, pressing for more growth and expansion. It is he who spurs us on to overcome obstacles, make quick decisions, cope with greater responsibility, and win the prize. Yet it is also Prometheus who risked everything to steal fire from the gods for human beings, thereby permitting us to craft things and making us who we are. As his punishment, he was nailed to a mountaintop, suspended between earth and sky in a Christ-like crucifixion. He is, then, a totem at the axes mundi, the center of the world, giving us our horizontal orientation to the world and our vertical orientation to the gods or Self.
Hermes appears as the god of commerce or trade. The messenger between the worlds, he can make connections where none other can; he can enhance the bartering or exchange of goods or the flow of information. So we might imagine him as the figure behind the information age, the archetypal image of the Internet. When the conscious ruling character in a businessperson is highly rigid or despotic, there is no possibility of exchange; Hermes has been banished. In addition, as guide between the conscious and unconscious realms, Hermes is alive in the psychotherapist at work. But he also has his shadows: He is tricky, a liar, and a thief. So he may be active in a businessperson whose ethics become questionable, who cuts corners just a little, or in a salesman who lies just a little to close a deal.
When the figure of Zeus is present in a businessperson, the man or woman is a natural executive who can hold the corporate vision, discipline employees, and make difficult decisions with authority. The ambition to amass power and money leads this person directly to the top of the pyramid. However, he or she may struggle with power shadows, becoming a tyrant who is emotionally isolated from others if Zeus does not move aside from time to time to allow other characters at the table a voice.
An Apollo-style man, the archetypal son, may adapt well as an organizational man, because his gifts of rationality, clarity, and strategic thinking are prized in most companies that view success as the achievement of goals. But typically he lacks the sheer will to power that is required to climb the ladder in some organizations. Too much Apollo in a man may mean that he needs law and order to the extreme, or that he sacrifices all feeling for his goal of objectivity. This character in the workplace may constellate its opposite, Dionysus, whose dark side appears in alcoholism, perhaps because of Apollo’s denial of irrational states, or in an eruption of religious feeling, which leads him away from the routine of work. However, as the workplace has opened to more nontraditional ideas from science and psychology, the light side of Dionysus has found a place at work: playful creativity, intuitive decision-making, lateral thinking, and a more experimental corporate culture that honors individual talents all make room for the gifts of Dionysus.
Hephaestus has been called the god of the hard-hats, under whose banner the workers of the world unite. In myth, he is the only god who actually works, the smith at the forge whose subterranean fires draw their energy from the creativity of nature itself. In one tale, Hephaestus shapes Pandora, the first woman, who is so lifelike that art is confused with nature. Through Hephaestus, then, creativity is born: His art mimics the creative powers of nature. He is the god of techne, or craft, and with fire he builds the foundation of civilization. A man who is controlled by this pattern probably will not fit within a conventional company; instead, he will work as an outsider, an artist perhaps. As a mother’s son, he may feel more comfortable working among women; as an introvert, he may prefer to work alone. But this man is not weak: He seeks revenge on those who betray him. And he works his craft with skill and diligence so that the drudgery of routine becomes an opportunity for worthy work.
A woman who is controlled by Hera believes that her marriage is her career. No matter how successful she may be in other arenas, if she does not marry, she feels like a failure. On the other hand, when Demeter, the archetypal mother, is a ruling presence, a woman will find a way to nurture others on the job, perhaps as a doctor, nurse, therapist, or social worker. If she is not a mother of children, she may compensate by unconscious mothering in her professional relationships and risk setting up a limited pattern of relating, which keeps others in a childlike position. But if Demeter is given her proper place at the table in conjunction with other goddesses, she can bring a deep fulfillment to both people involved.
An Athena-style woman, the archetypal father’s daughter, is typically ambitious, competitive, and productive. She may stride into meetings with a display of self-confidence and a sense of correctness that communicates no vulnerability to others. She can act responsibly, think strategically, thrive on deadlines, and articulate ideas to others. With these skills, she may succeed in professions that have been male-dominated in the past. However, Athena’s patriarchal ego, which keeps her aligned with men, may create problems with women at work: She disdains traditional feminine values, shows little empathy for low achievers, and can become “all business” when cut off from her own feelings.
When Artemis sits at the head of the table in a woman, she will be idealistic, an advocate of a social cause or personal vision that overrides a concern with success or income. She may find it difficult to work within a conventional structure, but she can team up with her “sisters” or with male colleagues to implement a vision.
When the figure of Aphrodite is in control, a woman will want to “follow her bliss,” as Joseph Campbell put it. She will seek out an emotional and an aesthetic engagement with any task. But she may have trouble working with other women, who distrust her seductiveness, or with men who are vulnerable to passions.
Finally, a hetaera-style woman and a heroic-style man may find the rewards of a successful collaboration. As platonic companions, they can stimulate each other’s interests, inspire mutual creativity, and lead the way toward more soulful work.
The puer-puella has unique shadow issues in the world of work. For many people who are highly i
nfluenced by this pattern, the limitations of time, structure, and commitment are too difficult to accommodate. If a man has been overmothered, he may feel entitled to be supported and end up financially dependent on a partner or even on welfare. If a woman has been overfathered, spoiled and raised to feel special, she may expect to be treated like a princess. One woman who was possessed by the puella believed that because of her special intellectual gifts she should be paid to stay at home and think about social issues. Others maintain a future orientation, dreaming of creative possibilities or world travel; or they might imagine get-rich-quick schemes, such as multilevel marketing projects. And still others envision flying high with international fame and fortune when the world discovers their unique invention or novel idea.
In addition, if an individual who is controlled by this pattern joins a spiritual community or practices a traditional spiritual discipline with some rigor, she may one day reject material values, including money. As one Buddhist woman said, “It’s all illusion anyway. If I believe that I need a lot of money, then I’ll have to go to work. Then I’ll become dependent on a paycheck and I won’t feel spiritual, free, and unattached. So I would rather not set the wheel going at all.”
In every case, an ordinary work life is disdained. The mundane, persistent efforts that are required to take action on one’s own behalf, to create and market a product, or to maintain a job with periods of tedium are anathema to those who are highly influenced by this archetype. To overcome this pattern, to find an appropriate place at the table for the puer where it does not sabotage either employment or soulful work, we need to face the senex, whose ethic is all work, the other side of the puer’s no-work ethic. When we can romance these characters in the domain of work, we can free ourselves of deep-seated family patterns and cultural attitudes and design a unique life in which both work and play have an honored place.
POWER SHADOWS: DENYING POWER, ABUSING POWER
As money is the currency in the marketplace, power is the currency in the workplace. And it is parceled out not only in salaries but in stock options, benefits, and square footage. Some workers, like drone bees, feel as if they have none; others rule over a small turf; still others have a bit more, although they still feel powerless in relation to their superiors. And those near the top push for access, as if power by association is the prize. Finally, those few who have the power of definition and the power of the purse in a corporate culture are believed by others to be almighty powerful.
Of course, power itself is not evil; it is power used as a shield that generates shadow issues at work. Power may be actively expressed in intimidating threats, critical comments, treating others with disrespect, and the persistent need to be right. Or it may be passively expressed in shaming, innuendo, or withholding behaviors that others understand in Turkish as power trips. Either way, it leads to feelings of superiority and inferiority, creating a perpetrator and a victim.
James Hillman points out that subordination of any sort arouses a power complex, which raises the ego above other influences. He asks: How can we exercise power without dominating? His answer: We do this by making conscious the many forms of power and their subtle nuances—control, prestige, ambition, influence, resistance, leadership, authority, charisma, tyranny.
When any kind of power remains hidden in the shadow, we feel small, helpless, dependent, and even defeated in the workplace. When we become reactive, expressing anger inappropriately or fomenting dissent among others, a rebellious character may have stolen the seat of power. When we complain and blame others for our circumstances, remaining ineffectual and expecting to be rescued, a victim character may have taken over the kingdom, as our client Olivia discovered.
A Latina attorney, Olivia, thirty, worked long hours in a criminal law firm. But when a male attorney began aggressively to encroach on her territory and to jockey for contracts, she could not compete. Instead, a passive victim character took over, telling her not to make a scene. She withdrew, disengaged, and began to feel less invested at work. When a friendly colleague suggested that she needed to assert herself, she responded, “I’ve felt this struggle forever. I don’t want to become like one of them—pushy, mean, ruthless men.”
Because the many kinds of power remained undifferentiated and unconscious for her, Olivia made no distinction between assertiveness and aggression. She could not risk becoming angry because she believed that it would lead to rage and destroy her career. So she held herself in check, avoiding confrontations with others, as well as with her own shadowy feelings. By projecting her aggression, she hid her self-doubt and feelings of inferiority beneath a passive, invisible persona, which she had learned from her mother. But secretly Olivia began to feel like a failure and to turn in legal briefs late for the first time. In this way, she acted out passive-aggressively rather than dealing directly with the issues. “I guess I can’t be assertive and still be attractive as a minority woman,” she confessed sadly.
Olivia had felt like an outsider for as long as she could remember. At her Ivy League college, she felt excluded from the privileges of the white students but did not want them to see her envy, only her contempt. So she remained isolated, worked harder, and told herself that to succeed as a Latina she needed to be the best.
As a result of continuing to silence her own voice, Olivia felt increasingly depressed and resentful at work. As she failed to challenge her colleagues, she also failed to challenge her own limits: She did not speak up in front of her peers and she did not seek out new, high-profile clients, because the voice of a shadow character told her to disappear. But in listening to it again and again, her difficult feelings did not disappear.
When Olivia separated out her function at work from her identity, she was able to speak up to a superior about the other attorney and let him handle the territorial problem. As she romanced the shadow character who kept her silent and passive, she uncovered deep cultural and family messages, which sabotaged her in her chosen career. Slowly, over the course of several years, she created her own particular style of assertiveness at work and no longer undermined her professional dreams.
Unlike Olivia and others whose power remains in the shadow, many executives in positions of authority knowingly wield the weapons of power like Hercules and other heroes of old. A few, who win headlines, permit a tyrant character to take over the inner kingdom, which renders them ruthless and cold-hearted. But many men and women who head companies struggle mightily to wield power ethically. One client, an attorney who ran a firm of twelve lawyers, described his pressing dilemma: He needed to downsize the firm by 20 percent. His law librarian, sixty, had been there for fifteen years, but had performed poorly the last two years, since her husband died. He wondered whether to hire a young, technologically literate librarian to increase efficiency. Although he did not want to have to choose between his heart and the bottom line, eventually he let her go.
Another client has run a major utility company throughout his career. To comply with affirmative action laws, he hired women and people of color until he reached a gender and racial balance. Then, with government cutbacks, he realized that he needed to downsize by 25 percent. If he follows the commonplace “last in, first out” rule, the affirmative action program will be ravaged. If he does not follow it, he will need to fire employees of fifteen to twenty years standing. In order to meet his financial needs, this man, too, is confronted with a choice between money and soul.
Eventually, many of these executives face a paradox: the shadow side of success. Although they do not feel powerful on the inside, they pay a high price for looking powerful on the outside. Rather than feeling authentic power, which is rooted in the Self, they feel only the power of position. As John R. O’Neil points out, this kind of power can lead to hubris, self-righteousness, and a constant need for acknowledgment. Their accomplishments may evoke the envy and resentment of others, leaving them lonely and isolated. Their one-sided competitive personalities render them incapable of vulnerability, souring t
heir days, which should be sweet with success. They cannot slow down because they must strive to maintain their image at all costs. And they cannot promote at the top because, like devouring fathers who fear being replaced by their sons, they must maintain their powerful positions at all costs. Eventually abandoned by family and friends, some of them are left alone with the trappings of power.
Of course, the power shadow is not restricted to the top of the corporate pyramid; it also appears in the helping professions as a split archetype: doctor-patient, therapist-client, healer-sick person, privileged-underprivileged, selfless-selfish. In a way, the desire to heal, serve, or protect constellates its opposite in the Other: the need to be healed, served, or protected. And a power difference—superior-inferior—is built into these pairs.
As Jungian analyst Adolf Guggenbuhl-Craig points out, if people in the helping professions deny their own shadows and project inferiority onto patients or clients, the power shadow emerges. Eventually, with an inflated ego, the doctor or therapist begins to feel like a savior with supernatural powers. Then the risks grow large: He or she may become moralistic, imposing his values or opinions on others. He may begin to represent himself or his tools as better than they actually are. She may subtly begin to coerce the other person to submit, whether sexually, financially, or emotionally. And, eventually, the archetype is so split that he loses his humanity, identifying completely with the impostor on the throne and acting out in a destructive way.