Daimon Publishers
Envy is an emotion we all know about, scholars, psychoanalysts, and theologians included, but we rarely talk about it, and very little is written about it. The reason for this silence is the painful, searing effects of envy. It burns into us like acid, whether we are the envied or the envying.
But envy really does exist and work its destruction, all the more successfully because we refuse to face it. In essence, envy is an attack on being - the being of the envied and of the envier, too - and an attack on the good quality or stuff that is envied. Unimpeded, envy would eviscerate everyone and everything, leaving nothing but shells. Then, perhaps, its own envious clamoring could rest, but only as long as nothing appeared to activate its venom anew.
If we refuse to talk about our experiences of envy we conspire with its savage attempts to annihilate the good, anything that is in any way good, however we define it. For finally, envy between persons is a displacement of our own relation to the good. When Cinderella's sisters envy her, they get off the hook of their struggle with themselves and their relation to the good. They dodge trying to relate to their own selves by means of noisy accusations directed against Cinderella. They avoid figuring out their relation - to their mother, to the prince, or to what they see as the good life. Instead of inspecting and muddling along in these real relationships, they mount vociferous attacks on Cinderella. All the sisters' energies go into trying to destroy Cinderella's being instead of trying to take hold of their own, sexually and spiritually.
If we can suffer consciously the envy we ourselves feel, whether coming from us or at us, it can be a means of recovering being for us. Envy can lead us to what needs repair in our identities, in our sexuality and our spiritual centers, and in our efforts to relate to the good. And envy can point us toward the very good that undergirds both the pain and the healing. Envy, so spoiling and injurious, can, if suffered consciously, point us toward the good we thirst for. Envy, that great distance maker, that connection destroyer, can, if suffered consciously, close the gap that its own wounding operations have opened.
We wrote this book to open up this wounded space in human relationships. The Cinderella tale, so simple and so profound, offers a direct road into and through the thickets of envying and being envied. Envy between sisters, between mothers and daughters, between the sexes, between nations; inwardly, between different parts of our own psyche; envy even of God - these are the multiple places of wounding we touch in this book. The central role of envy in determining the very nature of our society - its politics, for example - is, we think, crucial.
The first part of the book explores envy psychologically, what it feels like to be envied and to envy (Chapters 1 and 2); the archetypal background of envy found in relation to the mother (Chapter 3); envy between the sexes (Chapter 4), and the envy that attacks the good itself, the very thing that envy longs for (Chapter 5). We use the Cinderella tale to approach and address these tortuous emotions, taking her and her sisters as two sides of the same envy complex that exists in most of us. Recognizing that in each of us are both sides of the envy drama leads to specific steps to treat the problem (Chapter 6).
The second part of the book explores envy theologically, recognizing that envy has been seen as a major sin through the ages (Chapter 7). It affects our spiritual integrity (Chapter 8) and has specific consequences for our sexual identity, too (Chapter 9). Through Cinderella, whom we see as a kind of female Christ figure, we catch a glimpse of the plight of the good - in theological terms, of God - when in our envy we refuse it and take offense at it (Chapter 10). What solace, then, offers itself to those who suffer the scourge of envy? The answer is in the good itself, which moves us to look at it through the very envy that would attack it (Chapter 11), to go with its little bits and pieces, willingly trying to fit them together into a larger whole of self and community (Chapters 12 and 13). We conclude with a look at the amazing nature of goodness that may gradually become evident in the envy experience, its abundance, its ability to link and make wholes of disparate parts, its abiding presence, and its joy (Chapter 14).
A glossary of terms and a brief review of the psychological literature on envy conclude the book.
We would like warmly to acknowledge the irreplaceable skill and helpfulness of Staley Hitchcock in typing the manuscript.
Ann and Barry Ulanov
Woodbury, Connecticut
Part One
The story of Cinderella and her sisters endures as no other fairy tale does. For most of us it is alive in Charles Perrault's late seventeenth-century version, complete with stepmother, fairy godmother, mice, pumpkin, glass slipper, and rescuing prince. For others, there are tellings that reach back in time as much as a thousand years and across the world from the Indians of North America to the peoples of Africa and China. The variations are many, the emphases different, the central figure sometimes not so pure as Cinderella in the more than seven hundred attempts to tell this tale.
Why should this story attract so many tellers, capture so many readers and listeners? What is there about it that cuts through major differences of time, place, and culture? There are other attractive heroines. There are other cruel stepmothers and ugly sisters to bring alive the perils of family life. Rescuing princes abound and if other godmothers, or ingenious animals, or talking fish, or enchanted forests are not necessarily so resourceful as Cinderella's, enough magic exists in the world of fairy tales to provide contentment to an audience hungry for happy endings magically contrived.
None of these things accounts for the hold of Cinderella upon our imagination. Rather, there is something primordial about Cinderella and her tale. Seated in her nest of ashes, she speaks to us of misery in archetypal terms. She is, with whatever degree of natural or supernatural significance we may want to endow her, the Suffering Servant. What is more, she not only serves hard and cruel masters - or more precisely, mistresses - but does so as one called to better things, by inner and outer nobility, by blood, and by spirit. She is, in fact, so much the very essence of the noble that we can accept the fact that she is an enviable creature, and is envied, by her stepmother and sisters, even in her condition, down with the grease and dirt, doomed to endless service and suffering.
The story of Cinderella is the story of envy. It is the epochal tale, even in its usual few pages, of this much-felt, much-endured, but scarcely discussed human emotion. Accounted by tradition second only to pride of the so-called seven deadly sins, envy remains on the outskirts of religious, philosophical, literary, and psychological discourse. It has its place in moral theology and philosophical ethics, but not one commensurate with the stern and nasty language used to describe it and to cast it from the precincts of proper behavior. It has a significant book unto itself in sociology and a few articles in anthropological journals. It gets occasional attention from political scientists, but rarely is any attempt made to understand or explain its pivotal role in motivating events as large as revolution or as shattering as family violence. It has its brief innings in Dante, in John Bunyan, in medieval and Renaissance epic, in some few modern novels, but it lives, even in its most brilliant evocations, only for a moment, personified in such ugly trappings that it is easy to dismiss from consciousness.
Where envy survives - and oh, how it does! - is in human affairs, in little ones and big ones, in major and minor events, but most importantly in the ordinary daily lives of ordinary people, in all of us, one way or another, as enviers or envied. However badly or well we enact the roles, we are called upon at some time or other to play Cinderella or her stepmother or stepsisters.
Freud's deliberations on penis envy have made that phrase a commonplace in our time, and the matching compliment paid the other sex in later psychological theory with envy of breast or vagina has begun to make its way into something like universal conversation. But neither kind of yearning for missing sexual anatomy or function has quite established envy at the center of thought or investigation in depth psychology, though Melanie Klein did find in envy a clue to major truths about human behavior, and did see envy as a constant factor in our lives.
Klein's investigations and all the work done on envy begin from the point of view of the envier.1 We propose to start from the experience of being envied. This departure brings new light to the complexity of envy - both its miseries and its hidden values - and illuminates more of the archetypal background shared by the envied and the envier.
What happens to one who is being looked at enviously, with the fierce scrutiny and malicious intent that the root meaning for envy - invidere or invidia - conveys? How does envy appear to Cinderella, the envied one, the object of her sisters' eviscerating examination? What does being envied tell us about the dynamics and effects of envy? What archetypal issues relating to the good confront us here? How can we respond to envy, whether it comes at us or from us? What insight does psychotherapy give us to help us to deal with envy?
Cinderella and her sisters show us the energies of envy - its vicious attack, its determination to spoil all it confronts, its refusal of the good at the same time that, in secret, it spies on the good. The emphasis in Cinderella and her sisters is on envy between women, but the archetypal themes of the tale serve as a means to interpret envy in men as well, envy toward women and toward the feminine elements of their own being. In addition, Cinderella and her sisters represent central aspects of the female personality, and especially the conflict between ego and shadow.
Our interpretation of the tale, therefore, will move back and forth between internal issues: how our own feminine and masculine parts fit or do not fit together, and external issues: how we conduct our life with persons of the same and opposite sexes, how we conflict, compete, or join harmoniously with others. First and foremost, however, we must enter into the awful places where envying and being envied rule. For there, where all of us are bound to spend some of our lives, we will find the reasons why envy is so little dealt with and why it is essential to face it.
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Daimon Publishers