Hi.
I’m Mike Rugnetta, this is Crashcourse Mythology and today we’re going to lay mythology down
on this comfy little couch over here and listen to all its problems.
It’s time to get all psychology on mythology.
We’ll be examining the theories of both Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung, and discussing
the curious relationship the works of both men have to mythology.
So, Thoth, how do you feel about your mother?
OH, that’s right - you created your self.
Or did you spring from Set’s forehead?
Or was it Ra’s heart?
ANYWAY - we’re talking about Freud and Jung for two main reasons.
The first is that they used myths in their practice.
They relied on ancient stories to describe the contemporary psychological conditions
they observed and would often relate what their patients told them to mythological stories.
And the second is that we can use some of their theories to explore and analyze myth
itself, just like we applied Joseph Campbell’s theories in our exploration of hero myths.
And let’s not forget that Campbell’s theories owe a lot to Jung.
[[[Thoth holding up a sign that says Forever Jung?]]]
Rod Stewart gag, huh?
You been hanging out with Stan too much, my dude.
INTRO Freud and Jung were contemporaries and the
two of them were hugely influential in establishing psychology and psychoanalysis in the 20th
century.
Freud started writing in the 1890s, and is generally considered the father of psychoanalysis,
which in turn, has influenced almost all of our pop culture representations of what psychology
or therapy or even THE MIND look like.
Freud and Jung both believed that our dreams -- the stories our minds create without our
active input -- were keys to understanding our waking selves and the problems we experienced.
For a lot of his career, Freud thought that most of our problems had a single root: The
Oedipus.
You’ve probably heard the phrase “oedipal complex.”
This is a classic, and well known, example of how Freud was influenced by mythology.
He used the Greek myth of Oedipus to help illustrate a particular theory he had about
why so many rich 19th-century Viennese people were so neurotic.
We’ve covered the myth in Crash Course Literature, but basically: Oedipus is a Greek prince who’s
the subject of a prophecy which says one day he will kill his father and marry his mother.
He does everything he can to avoid this, only years later, to sort of accidentally kill
his father, the king Laius, and sort of accidentally marry his mother, the queen Jocasta.
And less accidentally sort of have a bunch of incest kids.
Freud borrowed Oedipus’ name to help explain his theory that young boys have a natural
desire to replace their fathers and bed their mothers.
Freud argued that so many other hang-ups and emotions derive from this “complex.”
Now, maybe you’re thinking: I don’t want to sleep with my mother, or, I’m not a boy,
so how does this apply to me?
And you would be right to have those questions.
There are definitely…
assumptions in some of Freud’s theories.
But like it or not, those theories have shaped and influenced huge swaths of twentieth century
western culture.
And we haven’t even talked about his theory of penis envy.
And--ooh, look at the time, better keep moving.
Carl Gustav Jung was, at one time, Freud’s friend and collaborator.
And like Freud, Jung is a towering figure in the history of psychology.
One of his best-known techniques was a way of analyzing dreams.
Jung believed that dreams could be understood through “archetypes.”
He defined archetypes as those figures or concepts that occur across cultures and history,
shared, in essence amongst all people.
“There are as many archetypes as there are typical situations in life,” he once wrote.
Jung believed Archetypes helped us understand the world, and explain not only our dreams,
but also the common aspects of dreams among many people.
According to Jung, human beings everywhere are born with the ability to draw archetypes
from a sort of super-psychic aether, and form them into an individually useful language
of storytelling and meaning.
This aether is known as the “collective unconscious,” and is one potential explanation
for why there are so many commonalities in myths throughout the world.
Jung thought archetypes, in dreams and stories alike, were one key to better understanding
our own lives.
If Jung used archetypes as a way to analyze dreams, he drew on myths depicted in stories
and art to figure out what those archetypes were.
Stories of heroes and witches and tricksters and maidens help inform the archetypes that
Jung established, which he in turn used to explore the psychology of his patients.
He considered a person’s psyche to be an individual manifestation of elements taken
from the collective unconscious, elements also often found in myth.
By taking ideas from different myths, and using their widely accepted meaning to look
analytically at our dreams, we can better understand our own psyche.
And if we want to, we can also plug some of Jung’s ideas back into myths to better understand
how they work.
Jung discussed a lot of archetypes, but we’re going to focus on three big ones he thought
were part of every individual.
If an individual, or a hero of myth, can integrate them all successfully it means a fusion between
the conscious mind, the personal unconscious AND the collective unconscious.
That means--wait for it--an integrated self!
Got it?
And hey, fun bonus fact: this individuation isn’t necessarily an end state; people can
go through it numerous times.
The three archetypes we’re looking at are the shadow, anima/animus, and the self.
The shadow is a part of our unconscious mind and represents all the parts of a person they
don’t like to acknowledge.
This includes less socially acceptable emotions like rage or sexual desire or survival instincts.[1]
Think of it as your hidden side.
Sort of like a reverse image of your conscious self.
In dreams and myths, though, the shadow is always the same gender as the protagonist
or dreamer.
And yeah, Jung has a tendency to break things down along gender lines and make a lot of
assumptions based on those.
Today this can feel anachronistic.
And pretty patriarchal.
Something to keep in mind while we learn about it.
Next, the anima or animus: archetypes that likewise comprise an aspect of the protagonist’s
self in their unconscious mind.
Women have an animus, which represents their male side while men have an anima representing
their female side.
Both are aspects of the collective unconscious–avatars for gender essentialism, kind of.
Jung didn’t consider them artifacts of our specific relationships with family members
of the opposite sex though, which CAN have an impact on us, but in a different way.
The anima and -mus, rather, represent a sort of negation more even deeply held than what
is represented by our SHADOW.
For men, their anima personifies their “feminine” characteristics like moodiness, intuition,
and irrationality.
YEESH - because obviously men are never irrational or moody.
For women, the animus represents “male” qualities like aggression, ferocity, risk-taking,
and according to one scholar of Jung, “silent, obstinate, evil ideas.”[2] Though, the animus,
they say, can also help women take action, speak out and find wisdom.
Because ladies…
need a lot of help with that kind of thing, right?
ALSO YEESH.
The last archetype is the Self.
Not like, your actual self, but a character that represents a total and timeless unification
of your conscious and unconscious parts.
So sort of a superego, but also your link to the collective unconscious, too.
The Self does a lot of work.
The Self will once again be the same gender as the, uh, self?
Typically, it’s a wise old man, sometimes called a senex, for men.
And for women, a crone, although that term isn’t as judgy as it sounds.
Having integrated our primitive self, represented by the shadow, and our emotional opposite,
represented by the anima or animus, we have gained a greater awareness of ourselves and
of our participation in the collective unconscious.
The integration and awareness that the Self represents is the point of the journey, whether
it’s a mythical journey or a psychological one.
Once the hero–having passed all their psychic trials–can accept and acknowledge the archetype
of the self, he or she has gained a kind of maturity.
And the same could be true for each of us in the journey of our own lives.
Jungian archetypes can seem [DRAMATIC PAUSE] abstract.
To make them feel more concrete, let’s use them to retell a contemporary myth almost
all of us know: Star Wars!
Take it away, Thoughtbubble.
A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away lived a young dreamer named Luke Skywalker.
He begins his process of individuation in total boredom on a desolate planet devoid
of meaning.
Then, into his life comes a Shadow, with an awesome black cloak: Darth Vader.
Powerful and cruel, Darth Vader could be seen as representing the harsher, angrier, more
animalistic emotions that Luke will not let himself express.
Not long after, Luke meets another Shadow in a dangerous bar.
This Shadow, named Han, is cocky where Luke is unassuming, skilled at fighting where Luke
is a novice, and above all worldly, where Luke is naïve.
Luke and Han don’t get along at first; in fact Luke finds many aspects of Han unpleasant,
especially his selfishness.
But eventually the two come to respect each other, mainly once Luke acknowledges his own
aggression and learns to control it.
Soon Luke finds his Anima in the form of a powerful princess with rad hair.
Initially, Princess Leia is an object of sexual desire for the young man.
But she’s also a guide, providing Luke with the motivation to leave his home.
And she leads him to his Senex: Obi Wan Kenobi.
Obi Wan helps Luke reconcile with his Anima, establishing a loving relationship with her.
Later, an even more powerful Senex, Yoda, the small green Jedi Master with odd sentence
structure, he meets.
Both Senexes, teach Luke the ways of the Force, an elemental power that pervades all places
and all things.
Once Luke can acknowledge the shadow as a hidden part of himself, accept the anima as
his opposite self, and accept the wisdom of the Senex in forming his Self self, only then
does he achieve maturation - by becoming a JEDI.
Thanks Thoughtbubble.
Who knew Jung was so applicable to outer space?
Well, George Lucas did.
Because as we mentioned in our first episode on the hero myth, Jung was a big influence
on Joseph Campbell who was a huge influence on George Lucas.
Obviously the Star Wars movies are famous for lots of reasons, but maybe we can attribute
some of their success to their ability to tap into something we all share - something
in the collective unconscious.
In Luke Skywalker’s transformation from a whiny little boy to a confident Jedi, maybe
we’re able to recognize our own experience of growing up.
Though with more robots.
Probably.
They’re not always perfect, but if we use Jung’s tools as a starting place to analyze
myths, and other popular stories, we can start to see some of the deep structures that run
from one to the next.
Maybe we can also start to understand why certain myths endure and why these are stories
we want to keep telling.
About our world.
About ourselves.
About our droids.
Next time we wrap up crash course mythology by taking a look at how the language of myth
has found its way into everyday speech!
Thanks for watching - see you then!
Crash Course Mythology is filmed in the Chad and Stacey Emigholz studio in Indianapolis,
IN, and is produced with the help of all these nice people.
Our animation team is Thought Café.
Crash Course exists thanks to the generous support of our patrons at Patreon.
Patreon is a voluntary subscription service where you can support the content you love
through a monthly donation, and help keep Crash Course free, for everyone, forever.
Thanks for watching, and sorry we are if Star Wars we spoiled.
________________ [1] von Franz, quoted in Thury & Devinney
p. 621 [2] von Franz, quoted in Thury & Devinney
p. 624