Alienation and Affect

Alienation has objective, social-structural determinants, yet is experienced

subjectively as a psychological state involving both emotion and cognition. Part I
considers conceptualizations of alienation and affect in historical context, empha-
sizing Rousseau, Hegel, Marx, Simmel, and Weber. Part II develops a theory of
the affective bases of Seeman’s original five varieties of alienation – normlessness,
meaninglessness, self-estrangement, cultural estrangement, and powerlessness.
The book argues that both normlessness and cultural estrangement manifest in
two distinct forms and involve distinct emotions. Thus it develops the affective
bases of seven distinct varieties of alienation. This work synthesizes classical and
contemporary alienation theory and the sociology of emotions. It contributes to
political sociology, and finds application in social psychiatry and related health
and social-service fields that treat traumatized and highly alienated individuals.

Warren D. TenHouten, Research Professor of Sociology at the University of

California at Los Angeles, is the author of nearly 100 publications, including Time
and Society (2005), A General Theory of Emotions and Social Life (2007), and
Emotion and Reason (2012). His interdisciplinary research interests have spanned
the sociology of time, neurosociology, creativity, and life-historical and historio-
metric research methodology. His current work concerns emotions and the founda-
tions of human rationality.
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Warren D. TenHouten
Alienation and Affect

Warren D. TenHouten
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For Mef Seeman
Contents

List of figures xii

List of tables xiv
Preface xv
Acknowledgements xvii

Introduction 1
The concept of alienation 1
The plan of the book 4

PART I
Alienation and affect in historical context 5

1 Alienation and affect, from the ancient world

to early modernity 7
Alienation in the ancient world 7
Alienation in medieval and early modern times 9
17th- and 18th-century social contract theorists 13
Grotius 13
Hobbes 14
Locke 14
Rousseau 15
Notes 18

2 Alienation and affect in 18th- and 19th-century

social philosophy 19
From early modernity to the Enlightenment 19
Enlightenment rationalism, Enlightenment sentimentalism,
and the passions 20
The roots of romanticism and romantic notions of alienation 20
Romantic opposition to reason and science 22
Religion, and alienation from passion and sexuality 23
viii Contents
Imagination and aesthetic expression 24
Critique of industrial, capitalistic society 25
Notes 27

3 Alienation, from Hegel and Feuerbach to Marx and Engels 30

Hegel 30
Alienation and emotion in Hegel 31
Alienation and social dominance in Hegel 31
Feuerbach 34
Economic alienation: from Winstanley, Smith, Ferguson,
and Schiller to Marx and Engels 35
Alienation of bourgeois, Christian culture from
passionate human nature 38
The estrangement of labor in capitalistic production 39
Marx and Engels abandon the concept of alienation 40
Assessing Marx: from dialectical materialism
to prophetic vision 42
Notes 43

4 Alienation and affect in the late 19th and the 20th centuries 45
Simmel 45
Subject and object 46
Means and ends 46
Emotion and reason 47
Transcending alienation through artistic creativity 47
Weber 48
The alienating conditions of the modern world 48
Instrumental and substantive rationality 50
Alienation, socialism, the New Left, and the
counterculture 51
Notes 54

PART II
Emotions basic to specific varieties of alienation:
contemporary theory and research 57

5 Emotions as adaptive reactions to problems of life 59

Introduction to Part II 59
The concept of primary emotions 59
The case for primary emotions 59
The case against primary emotions 61
Emotions and social relations 62
Plutchik’s psychoevolutionary model of the primary emotions 62
 Contents ix
MacLean’s rescue of Plutchik 64
Fiske’s social-relations model sociologically generalizes
the Plutchik–MacLean model 65
From primary to higher-order emotions 66
Discussion 69
Notes 72

6 Normlessness, anomie, and the emotions 73

Introduction 73
Active, intentional normlessness1–anomie1 75
Active, intentional normlessness1 75
Anomie1 76
Passive, unintentional normlessness2–anomie2 76
Passive, unintentional normlessness2 76
Anomie2 77
Emotions in Durkheim’s social types of suicide 78
Ruthlessness and the emotions of active, intentional anomie1 79
Contempt 80
Pride 81
Derisiveness 82
Discouragement and the emotions of passive, unintentional
anomie2 82
Disappointment 83
Shame 83
The fear component of shame 83
The sadness component of shame 84
Alarm 85
Two causal models 86
Discussion 87

7 Self-estrangement and despair 91

Introduction 91
Self-estrangement and the primary emotions of sadness,
disgust, and surprise 92
Despair: its depth and episodic nature 93
Despair as a tertiary emotion 94
The disappointment of experiencing rejection/disgust 94
A collapse of territory: surprise and loneliness 95
A shocking, saddening loss 97
Consequences of self-estrangement and despair 99
Excessive reliance on logic 99
Alexithymia 100
Emptiness 101
x Contents
Hubristic pride 102
Discussion 103
Notes 104

8 Meaninglessness, ressentiment, and resentment 105

Introduction: meaningfulness and meaninglessness 105
Meaninglessness, suffering, ressentiment, and resentment 106
Forceful and helpless resentment 111
Resentment as a tertiary emotion 113
Anger 114
Disgust 115
Surprise 116
Primary–secondary emotional pathways to resentment 117
A contemptible breach of normative boundaries 117
An angering culture shock 118
A disgusting outrage 118
Discussion 120
Notes 120

9 Cultural estrangement and the emotions 122

Introduction 122
Cultural estrangement1 as rejection of, and disdain for,
societal values and meanings 122
The primary and secondary emotional components of disdain 124
Sociomoral disgust and its function of rejection 125
Anticipation 125
Anger 125
State anger and cynicism: an explosive combination 126
Aggressiveness expressing disgust 127
An anticipation of contempt 129
Cultural estrangement2 as failure to ‘live up to’
cultural values 129
Existential dread as a tertiary emotion 130
Anticipation of alarm–awe 134
Surprise and anxiety 135
A fearful confusion 135
Discussion 137
Note 138

10 The emotions of powerlessness 139

Introduction 139
Objective and subjective powerlessness in alienation theory 139
 Contents xi
The emotional basis of subjective powerlessness 140
The four primary emotions of powerlessness 140
Sadness 140
Fear 141
Acceptance–acquiescence 141
Anticipation–expectation 142
The six secondary emotions of subjective powerlessness 143
Fatalism 143
Pessimism 144
Resignation 145
Anxiety 147
Submissiveness 147
Shame 148
Objective powerlessness 149
Social inequality 150
Social inferiority 150
Social invisibility 151
Economic distress 151
External locus of control 152
A content-analytic study of life-historical interviews
with Australian Aborigines and Euro-Australians 152
Wordlist indicators of objective and subjective powerlessness 153
Culture and sex differences 154
Two measurement models 154
A confirmatory causal model 155
Discussion 157

11 A summing up, competing sociological models of alienation,

and issues in alienation theory and research 159
Introduction 159
Valence, focus, and clustering of the emotions of alienation 159
The externally focused cluster of tertiary emotions 163
The internally focused cluster of tertiary emotions, together
with the emotions of powerlessness 163
Alternative sociological models of alienation 165
The emotions of alienation, 31 and possibly counting 167
Issues in contemporary alienation theory and research 167
Notes 169

References 171
Name index 202
Subject index 209
Figures

4.1 Social-scientific interest in alienation, 1939–2015: Ratios of

annual number of ProQuest Sociological Abstracts’ title or
abstract entries containing words for alienation or estrangement,
as a ratio of the annual number of scholarly journal articles
including words for society or social (a proxy measure of
social-scientific publication volume) 52
5.1 (A) Plutchik’s model of the primary emotions and
(B) Plutchik’s circumplex or ‘wheel’ of the eight primary
emotions 63
5.2 Continuities in the models of MacLean, Plutchik, and Fiske 66
6.1 Primary and secondary emotions of two kinds of anomie 85
6.2 Causal models for two kinds of normlessness–anomie 86
7.1 Proposed primary and secondary emotional components
of the tertiary emotion, despair 99
7.2 A conceptual model: causes of self-estrangement,
primary–secondary pathways to despair, and selected
consequences of despair 103
8.1 Hypothesized primary and secondary emotional components
of the tertiary emotion resentment 119
9.1 Plutchik’s 1962 circumplex or ‘wheel’ of the eight
primary emotions, with tags on the emotions of cultural
estangement1 (CE1) and cultural estrangement2 (CE2) 133
9.2 Emotional components of disdainfulness and dread; affective
bases of cultural estrangement1 and cultural estrangement2 136
9.3 Causal models for two kinds of cultural estrangement 137
10.1 Measurement models for objective powerlessness and
subjective powerlessness 155
10.2 Causal model: subjective powerlessness as a function
of objective powerlessness 156
11.1 Venn diagrams of the primary emotions associated with
(A) predominantly externally focused and (B) predominantly
internally or self-focused varieties of alienation
(and powerlessness) 161
 Figures xiii
11.2 Plutchik’s 1962 circumplex or ‘wheel’ locating eight
primary emotions in a two-dimensional space; the primary
emotions of all seven varieties of alienation are plotted in the
two-dimensional space and placed at their centroids 162
11.3 Alternative models of relationships between seven specific
varieties of alienation and alienation as a general concept 168
Tables

5.1 Plutchik’s 1962 classification of the secondary emotions,

a revision, and hypothesized associated elementary social
relations. The secondary emotions included in one or more
of the seven varieties of alienation are shown in italics. 67
6.1 Aetiological and morphological classification of social
types of suicide 74
10.1 Word categories and partial wordlists for secondary
emotions of powerlessness and for social and economic
sources of objective powerlessness 153
11.1 Types and varieties of alienation and their bases of primary,
secondary, and tertiary emotions 160
11.2 Cross-classification of the secondary emotions occurring
in one or more varieties of alienation: valence of primary
emotional components by external (social-situational) or
internal (self) focus 165
Preface

In the 18th and 19th centuries, the ancient concept, alienation, emerged as a topic
of interest in the developing fields of social philosophy and social theory. Long
contested, the term alienation has assumed varied and sometimes incompatible
meanings, reflecting differing assumptions, epistemologies, ontological, and ethi-
cal, normative, and existential perspectives. Despite widely different interpreta-
tions of alienation offered by such seminal scholars as Rousseau, Hegel, Marx,
Simmel, and Weber, a consensus nonetheless held that the phenomenon of alien-
ation implies distance, separation, or estrangement. This disengagement can be
from one’s self, from significant others, from possessions or experiences of value,
from aspects of one’s society, from cultural values, from work, from institutions
and government, from nature, and beyond.
Despite a gradual decline in alienation studies in the social and behavioral sci-
ences since the early 1970s, the phenomenon of alienation has hardly disappeared.
Indeed, alienation has become particularly salient in our contemporary fragmented
and increasingly unequal and unstable societies. As economic elites solidify their
grip on power, many millions of citizens experience hardship and thwarted opportu-
nities. Soldiers, veterans, and civilians are traumatized by wars and regime change.
Increasingly overpopulated nations confront ecological devastation. Multitudes
of youth face futures without realistic chances of educational and occupational
advancement or meaningful participation in economic and political life. Greed and
corruption run rampant. Accompanying these increasingly troubling developments
is a pervasive cynicism concerning government, the breakdown of civic culture
and loss of democracy, and ineffectual efforts to control the relentless financializa-
tion of the global economy. Given these disturbing trends, individuals are sure to
develop feelings of impotence and alienation that include an erosion of meanings,
norms, and rules, and a sense of cultural incoherence. There is thus renewed need
for alienation theory and research, so that alienation as an experienced state of
mind can be understood, and both its structural causes and its sociobehavioral
consequences better analyzed and addressed.
This book aspires to take a step in that direction, through a two-part strategy. We
first situate the concept of alienation in its historical, philosophical, and ideologi-
cal contexts, and then develop it as a scientific concept. Throughout this work, we
emphasize the role of affect, sentiment, and emotion in alienation. We elaborate
xvi Preface
the concepts of sentiment and emotion, and present an emotions-classification
theory. Second, we present an analysis of the affective basis of five specific vari-
eties of alienation that Seeman (1959) first proposed. These are normlessness,
self-estrangement, meaninglessness, cultural estrangement, and powerlessness.1
We thus focus on five varieties of alienation, but we additionally show that two of
these varieties, normlessness and cultural estrangement, consist of two subtypes.
Our study thus investigates the affective bases of seven varieties of alienation.

Note
1 Seeman, in 1972, proposed a sixth variety of alienation, social isolation. Social isolation,
however, is arguably not a variety of alienation, and a huge literature on this subject has
emerged with scant reference to alienation theory.
Acknowledgements

This book is dedicated to Melvin Seeman, my esteemed colleague in the Sociology

Department at the University of California at Los Angeles. Professor Seeman has
provided inspiration for this project and numerous useful suggestions and recom-
mendations, all of which I have followed. Whatever quality of writing and theo-
retical clarity this work might possess is largely due to the tireless efforts of Maria
Gritsch. She not only edited the entire manuscript, but provided theoretical criticism
and evaluation that made it necessary to revise, elaborate, and clarify definitions
and concepts throughout the text. She offered encouragement, support, and com-
panionship that made working on this project enjoyable and rewarding. Additional
criticism, suggestions, and recommendations, together with timely encouragement,
were provided by Charles Kaplan, a research Dean of Social Work at the University
of Southern California. A number of useful comments and suggestions were offered
by philosopher Andreas Koch. Helpful criticism and suggestions for Chapter 6,
pertaining to normlessness, anomie, and suicide, was provided by Seth Abrutyn of
the Sociology Department at the University of Memphis. Valuable insight into the
topic of alienation, and of the emotions, has been provided by scholars, colleagues,
and students too numerous to list here. Mention must be made, however, of two
scholars who contributed much to my life as a social researcher and theoretician,
albeit before this project was initiated; they were Richard Morris of the University
of California at Los Angeles’ Department of Sociology, and Eddie Rose of the
Sociology Department at the University of Colorado.
The cover is by Eddie Rose (EROS), which he titled “Δ6: A Pale White Corse,”
and which was accompanied by (slightly modified) lines from William Blake’s
(1797] 2008:302) “Vala I”:

He sunk down into the sea,

a pale white corse.
In torment he sunk down
& flow’d among her filmy Woof,
His Spectre issuing from his feet
in flames of fire!

Chapter 10, “The Emotions of Powerlessness,” is supported by a data analysis

based on a corpus of life-historical interviews with Australian Aborigines obtained
xviii Acknowledgements
during three years of fieldwork in Australia. This effort was supported by the
New South Wales Aboriginal Family Education Centres Federation (AFEC). This
investigation was made possible by Lex Grey, a native New Zealander, who had
worked extensively with early educational programs for Aboriginal children and
their families in Australia, and the Aboriginal leaders of AFEC, Maisie Cavanagh
and Kevin Cavanagh. The help with this effort provided by Maisie and Kevin
Cavanagh has been deeply appreciated, and has long motivated me to work hard
in an effort to justify their help, trust, and companionship. Dover Publications are
thanked for granting permission to quote from Friedrich Schiller’s ([1794] 2004)
On the Aesthetic Education of Man. The data analysis is presented in Chapter 10
only in summary form, and is available in full in an article titled “The Emotions
of Powerlessness,” Journal of Political Power, 2016c, Vol. 9, No. 1, pp. 83–121.
Chapter 4 is largely based on Chapters 1 to 2 of Emotion and Reason: Mind,
Brain, and the Social Domains of Work and Love (London and New York: Rout-
ledge, 2013b). Chapter 6 is an enlarged argument of an article, “Normlessness,
Anomie, and the Emotions,” published in Sociological Forum, 2016b, Vol. 31,
No. 2, pp. 1–22.
Warren D. TenHouten
Introduction

The concept of alienation

Melvin Seeman in 1959 provided a groundbreaking typology of five varieties of
alienation: normlessness, meaninglessness, self-estrangement, cultural estrange-
ment, and powerlessness. His seminal work challenged the longstanding concep-
tualizations of alienation as a general, unidimensional phenomenon. The general
notion of alienation saw the social world as politically and economically organized
in ways that systematically prevented individuals from realizing their human poten-
tial. This consequently promoted their detachment, separation, disengagement, or
disconnection from the social world. Western civilization had engendered a daily
life that tended “by its very structure to produce the alienated, the disenchanted, the
rootless, and the neurotic” (Nisbit 1953:19). While generalists acknowledged dif-
ferent aspects of alienation, they saw these differences as subtle and assumed that
each dimension reflected a “general syndrome of alienation” (Travis 1986:62; see
also Suttie 1935; Glazer 1947; Pappenheim 1959). Alienation researchers further
reasoned that, because there are substantial positive correlations among alienation
subscales, “it is quite feasible to consider the sub-scales as belonging to the same
general syndrome” (D. Dean 1961:756). In its baldest form, the unidimensional
position identified the general “isolable feature” of alienation as the individual’s
“lack of power to overcome the discrepancy between what is and what ought to
be,” and researchers were accordingly urged to develop “a measure of this more
general dimension of alienation in society” (John Clark 1959:852).
There are good reasons to refrain from conceptualizing, and attempting to mea-
sure, a general concept of alienation. A general concept of alienation is a vague
and ambiguous rubric that can reflect researchers’ varying and even contradic-
tory assumptions concerning what constitutes a good society and what is socially
pathological. These assumptions can include romantic, cynical, or even theologi-
cal views about human nature, the exploitative nature of capitalism, the detailed
division of labor, the loss of community in modern, industrialized, capitalistic
societies, and the anonymity of urban life (Seeman 1972:467). While individu-
als in widely different circumstances (e.g., the dropout, the activist who distrusts
those in power, the apathetic slum dweller) can share a sense of remoteness from
aspects of the social-political-economic world, the origin and character of their
2 Introduction
separateness can nonetheless differ so considerably that they cannot plausibly be
seen as dimensions of a single syndrome. Those who insist on treating alienation
as a general concept can only reduce it to a non-theoretical, classificatory term,
analogous to “separation” (Schacht 1970:75, 175). It was against the background
of this prevailing orthodoxy and its seemingly insurmountable obstacles that See-
man presented his pathbreaking and profoundly insightful work wherein he argued
for and identified five specific varieties of alienation.
The social-scientific literature on alienation had additionally predominantly
advanced an objective, etiological perspective (Schacht 1970, 1994:45–52; Geyer
1980:11; Schweitzer 1981). That is, alienation theorists typically investigated the
sociohistorical circumstances and structural conditions that constitute alienation.
Many theorists held that “alienation consists of the structural, organizational, and
exchange relations that diminish human capacities in work and elsewhere” and
is “an objective fact independent of individual sentiments” (as described, but not
endorsed, by Seeman (1991:19)). The investigative focus was upon the sociostruc-
tural conditions of alienation, not upon the experiences of individuals. Rinehart
([1975] 2001:14), for example, insists that, “alienation is objective or structural
in the sense that it is built into human relationships at the workplace and exists
independently of how individuals perceive and evaluate their jobs.” Other theo-
rists (Etzioni 1968:618) omitted individual experience altogether by stating that,
“[t]he concept of alienation does not assume that the alienated are aware of their
condition. . . . The roots of alienation are not in . . . intrapsychic processes but in
the societal and political structures.”
A second aspect of Seeman’s pathbreaking work on alienation is that it directly
challenges this structuralist, ‘objective’ approach to alienation. In particular, See-
man (1959, 1972, 1991) advances a ‘subjectivist’, social-psychological perspec-
tive (introduced by Rousseau 1754, 1762a, 1762b) that principally focuses on
individuals’ subjective experience of alienation and holds that alienation consists
of mental states. Seeman (1991:21) forcefully emphasizes the importance of defin-
ing alienation “in terms of subjective sentiments,” even as he acknowledges that
the determinants of alienation lie outside of the individual in social-structural rela-
tions and conditions. Seeman states that, “structural circumstances . . . generate
such sentiments, condition their interpretation, or influence their behavioral conse-
quences.” Alienation is thus “a subjective state of an individual, to be distinguished
sharply from alienating social structures” (Geyer 1980:11). These alienating struc-
tures and conditions of society and culture can trigger and influence the sentiments
interior to individuals’ personal, psycho-affective experiences of alienation, but
they do not constitute alienation. Alienation rather consists of interior sentiments
that can range from vague feelings that life has lost its meaning to specific emo-
tions experienced by individuals suffering socioeconomic deprivation or political
disenfranchisement that they are powerless to overcome.
Seeman’s empirical research concerning individuals’ experiences of alienation
largely focuses on their cognition and learning, and his fivefold model of alienation
has even been characterized as a “typology of cognitive alienation” (Mandersheid
1981:189n2). Other scholars agree that alienation is “a cognitive state,” and infer
 Introduction 3
that, “therefore, investigators should measure the perceptions and understandings
of their subjects (rather than feelings, beliefs, behaviors, etc.)” (Fischer 1976:46).
Bacharach and Aiken (1979:854, emphasis expanded), for example, distinguish
between dissatisfaction, as “an affective evaluation of a particular work situation,”
and alienation “as a nonaffective description of a particular work situation.”
Seeman (1991) moved beyond this purely cognitive framework by proposing
that, as experienced by individuals, specific varieties of alienation comprise senti-
ments, meaning that they involve both cognition and emotion. This was a profound
insight; it announced a paradigm shift in alienation theory. Suddenly, and most
importantly, it became apparent that interpretations of alienation as purely cogni-
tive contradict alienated subjects’ own accounts of their experience. Cognitive
interpretations of alienation also contravene dictionary and other definitions which
capture common meanings of the term as involving ‘feeling’. The Macmillan Dic-
tionary (online), for example, defines alienation as “the feeling that you do not
belong in a particular society, place, or group”; the Cambridge English Diction-
ary (online) similarly defines alienation as “the feeling that you have no connec-
tion with the people around you.” Dictionary definitions thus provide cautionary
insight into how alienation is experienced. Seeman’s descriptions of ‘alienation’
as an affect-laden state of mind can be extended to alienation’s companion term,
‘estrangement’, which means ‘being separated from’ or ‘made a stranger to’ a
person, object, or situation. Estrangement means a “separation, withdrawal . . .
in feeling or affection” (Oxford English Dictionary online; hereafter, Oxford).
Estrangement can range from an intentional, even derisive, estrangement from
one’s popular culture to self-estrangement, or the unintentional separation from
oneself or one’s social identity.
Our aim in this work is to build upon and extend Seeman’s (1972, 1991) insights
into the experience of alienation in social contexts in order to analyze the “feelings
of alienation [that] are involved” (Feuerlicht 1978:15, emphasis added). Although
Seeman’s empirical research on alienation focuses on learning and cognition, he
provides important insights concerning the sentiments involved in his five varieties
of alienation. Using the example of social isolation, Seeman (1983:181, emphasis
expanded) notes that, while researchers can investigate the “‘structural’ connec-
tions between persons – i.e., not their sense of alienation, acceptance, or loneliness,
but the form of their friendship ties (e.g., the frequency or duration of contact . . .),”
often enough it is “direct inquiry about individual sentiments that defines these
structures.” He further notes that, “it is the sense of support deriving from the net-
work that is presumed to be the mediating link between structure and behavior.”
Thus, “alienation . . . still lies in the sentiments (directly measured or inferred) not
the structures” (Seeman 1983:181).
Building upon Seeman’s legacy, this work proposes a theory of alienation and
affect. In particular, we (i) focus on specific varieties of alienation rather than
on alienation in general, and (ii) link specific varieties of alienation to sets of
specific emotions. It is our central claim that all five of Seeman’s initial varieties
of alienation can be linked to specific emotions.1 We also show that the emo-
tional components of varieties of alienation include both positively valenced and
4 Introduction
negatively valenced emotions. This investigation has been enabled by the remark-
able advances in emotion theory and research, specifically in the sociology of
emotions. This work endeavors to unify alienation theory and the sociology, or
social anthropology, of emotions.

The plan of the book

In Part I, Chapter 1 traces the intellectual history of alienation, from the ancient
world, through the medieval period and its ideology of world-alienation, to the
work of the social contract theorists, Grotius, Hobbes, Locke, and Rousseau. Chap-
ter 2 examines romanticism, including its notions of alienation and its critique
of industrial, capitalist society. Chapter 3 considers alienation in the thought of
Hegel, Feuerbach, and Marx and Engels. Chapter 4 focuses on alienation in Sim-
mel, Weber, the New Left, the 1960s–70s oppositional counterculture, and the 20th
century, with special emphasis on the contested role of alienation in critical theory.
Part II examines contemporary theory and research. Chapter 5 sets the stage for
analysis of the affective bases of varieties of alienation by explicating emotions
theory and emotions classification. We distinguish emotion, affect, passion, and
sentiment, and examine the concept of primary emotions, guided by Plutchik’s
model of four pairs of opposite primary emotions, which are adaptive reactions
to positive and negative experiences of the elementary problems of life. The con-
cepts of secondary and tertiary emotional combinations (of primary emotions) are
presented and explicated along with a classification of secondary emotions. We
show that all eight primary emotions are involved in at least one of the variety of
alienation. Additionally, of the 28 possible secondary-emotional pairings of these
8 primary emotions, 17 are shown to be involved in at least one kind of alienation.
Chapters 6–10 examine five varieties of alienation. We link these to contemporary
research and theory, drawing on advances in the fields of social psychology, sociol-
ogy, psychology, political science, economics, philosophy, cognitive and affective
social neuroscience, and psychiatry. Two varieties of alienation – normlessness and
cultural estrangement, are shown to both consist of two subvarieties; each subtype
is associated with a distinct tertiary-level emotion (combinations of three primary
emotions). Of the resulting seven varieties of alienation, all except powerlessness
are linked to a single tertiary emotion; powerlessness is rather linked to six second-
ary emotions: fatalism, pessimism, resignation, anxiety, submissiveness, and shame.
Finally, in Chapter 11 we show that the complex emotions that form the affective
bases of the seven varieties of alienation differ according to their focus. Varieties of
alienation can consequently be clustered into two groups: one focused outwardly on
the social situation, the other focused inwardly, on the self.

Note
1 There are, of course, many other kinds of alienation, including social alienation, work
alienation, student alienation, parental alienation, etc., but while these are indeed impor-
tant topics, and deserving of careful attention, it does not appear that such kinds of
alienation can be linked to specific emotions.
Part I

Alienation and affect

in historical context
1 Alienation and affect, from
the ancient world to early
modernity

The history of man could very well be written as a history of the alienation of man.
– Erich Kahler (1957:43)

Alienation was the problem of the 1840s, and it is the problem of today.
– Morse Peckham (1976:138)

Alienation in the ancient world

The concept of alienation has a long and colorful history. As its full accounting
would require many volumes, we review only the most general trends. In Plato’s
Republic, Socrates considered the brave and wise soul as least disturbed by exter-
nal circumstances (ἀλλοιώσειεν, later rendered as the Latin alienatio). For Plato
and Platonists, the soul that liberates itself from the known world’s contingencies
and external realities achieves a positive state of alienation from everyday living
as it apprehends the Ideal, or the Divine.
In ancient Roman society, the term alienatio had three meanings. (i) Dominion
ad alium transferimus referred to the lawful transferring of possession or owner-
ship of something of value from one individual to another. Through this act, the
item becomes alien to its former owner upon becoming another’s possession. In
ancient Rome’s atomistic social life, individuals were legally regarded as either
property owners or property, and disposition of property was the law’s main
concern. (ii) Adding a psychological dimension to the concept, alienatio mentis
denoted one who is absent-minded, lacking in concentration, or lacking sanity,
as when one is separated from one’s reason, out of one’s mind, or ‘insane’.1
(iii) Alienatio also meant aversion, dislike, and the withdrawal of the feeling of
goodwill, friendship, or love; if one’s significant other is ‘stolen’ by a third person,
an alienation of affection follows. In all three cases, alienation is a separation, or an
estrangement, from one’s possessions, from one’s own mind, or from one’s love-
object. These three meanings have been brought forward to the Medieval English
alienacioun and to the Modern French alienation.
In the Old Testament, prophets of monotheism considered practitioners of
heathen and pagan religions self-alienating because they expended energy and
artistic capacities building idols which were simply human artifacts. Worship of
8 Alienation, affect in historical context
man-made things, prophets argued, transforms men into things; rather than expe-
riencing oneself as creator, one becomes “estranged from his own life force, from
the wealth of his own potentialities and is in touch with himself only in the direct
way of submission to life frozen in the idols.” This self-estrangement is no less
than “man’s relinquishment of himself” (Fromm 1961:44, 46).2
In early Christianity, the concept of alienation acquired another, opposite, mean-
ing, namely the separation or estrangement of the individual from the divine.
According to Gregory ([c. 578–95 CE] 2015:xii, 36), in his Moralia in Job and in
numerous other texts, Satan, the fallen angel, is alienus, the alien or stranger par
excellence. Satan was first among the beings alienated from God, for (i) not expe-
riencing love of God, and (ii) refusing to adhere to His divine order, rather compet-
ing with God. In the Bible, Paul, speaking of the Gentiles, said: “They are darkened
in their understanding, alienated from the life of God because of the ignorance that
is in them, due to their hardness of heart.”3 This lament, of being ‘alienated from
God’ or having ‘fallen from Grace’, informs Judeo-Christian mythology and has
motivated the “messianic mission of rescuing man from this state of self-alienation
which he had brought upon himself” (Mészáros 1970:28).
Ancient Christianity contributed to an apocalyptic tradition, providing accounts
of alienation as historical processes that change incrementally from an original
condition of domination and oppression to the eventual attainment of total sal-
vation in a perfect community. Christian theology’s narrative had a four-stage
structure, which Luther, the Lutheran philosopher Hegel, and Hegel’s erstwhile
disciple, Marx (Rotstein 1982), elaborated. In the narrative’s initial stage, an
antithesis obtains between the tyrannical oppressor, the lord, and those subjected to
bondage. The Old Testament represented this as bondage to Pharaoh in Egypt, the
New Testament as bondage to the sinful, mortal body. In stage two, an inversion
occurs, as the oppressor is vanquished and those in slavery attain an exalted posi-
tion of bondage: Yahweh defeats Pharaoh in the Old Testament, and Christ defeats
death in the New Testament. In the third stage, slaves’ status is inverted, as they
become the chosen lords: in the Old Testament they become “the head, and not
the tail” (Deuteronomy 28:10, 13), and in the New Testament there is an advance-
ment from being slaves of Christ (douloi Christou) to becoming “joint-heirs with
Christ” (Romans 8:17), a royal priesthood that attains liberty and equality. In the
fourth stage, oppression itself is transcended by a new kind of ‘community’: this
is a “kingdom of priests and an holy nation” (Exodus 19:6) in the Old Testament,
or the “Kingdom of God” in the New Testament. This new community is charac-
terized as a total identity of the new lords and the Supreme Lord, who holds all
power (Colossians 2:8). Here, the original antithesis has been totally resolved, and
the initial alienation of the bondsman is overcome.
Humanity’s plight is thus an ancient thesis concerning the nature of good and
evil, and evokes an archetypal design by which humans have tried to confront their
nature and destiny. In numerous ancient pagan cultures, there was in the Begin-
ning a primordial unity, the One, the Good, which overflows into mind, individual
souls, and the material universe. A disastrous process of splintering next created
individuality, self-centeredness, division, and multiplicity. This introduced Sin into
 The ancient world to early modernity 9
the world, and resulted in a ‘fall’ of humanity, a tragic departure from the One or
the All. The human being became, as Plotinus [270 CE] (1952:iv.vii.4) stated, “a
partial thing, isolated, weakened, full of care, intent upon the fragment; severed
from the whole . . . [and] buffeted about by a worldful of things. . . . It has fallen.”
The only redemption from such a falling-away-from the One, or “remoteness and
a condition of alienation from the source” (Abrams 1973:151), the myth holds, is
a process of reintegration, wherein human fragmentation is overcome by a return
to the originary One, a spiritual journey in quest of humanity’s lost home (Ploti-
nus [270 CE] 1952:vi.v.3). This neoplatonic myth of the ‘great circle’ requires a
powerful current of supernatural energy, a sustaining force of ‘love’, which flows
from the One down to remote humans. This energy hold the universe together and
instills in human awareness a yearning to return to a state of earlier unity, to attain
a circuitus spiritualis (Abrams 1973:152, 500–1n12).
This overall ancient theme of Oneness–Separation–Return can be seen, for
example, in Homer’s tale of Odysseus, who fled the sorcery of Circe and Calypso,
before eventually finding his Fatherland. This myth of circular design has had
innumerable incarnations, including Gnosticism, Kabbalism, Hermeticism, and
alchemy (see Abrams 1973:147–252). In this mythology, the end is its beginning,
as the movement is from unity to multiplicity and back to unity, a falling from
good to evil, and a final return to the good. This eternal circle was in Christianity
a tale of creation, incarnation, passion, second coming, apocalypse, and a heaven
on earth freed of evil and oppression. The originary One in many conceptualiza-
tions was reduced from an absolutely perfect ‘God’ to a concrete historical epoch
in which humanity was less alienated; this was variously situated in imaginations
of life in ancient Greece, in primitive societies, in the Middle Ages. As we enter the
medieval period of human history, however, alienation was still largely a theologi-
cal concept, but its economic meaning was to be elaborated in a context of social
power and political life.
Alienation thus developed both positive and negative meanings in ancient times.
Positively, it meant an ecstatic elevation of mental experience, wherein the mind
transcends its own boundaries, categories, and limitations, not through human
agency but through divine grace; mind as independent subject attains unity with a
transcendental object (Rotenstreich 1963). In theology, alienation meant an apoca-
lyptic transformation of the social order that liberated individuals from an oppres-
sive bondage and revealed humanity’s natural existence as an external, alien force.
Alienation’s negative connotations in ancient times ranged from sensing that a
valued possession had been lost to being separated from the divine.

Alienation in medieval and early modern times

Situated at the boundary between the ancient and medieval worlds, St. Augustine
focused on introspective conscience and an individualistic freedom of the will.
From his preoccupation with the soul’s immersion in itself, and the concurrent
achievement of immersion in the divine (Rotenstreich 1963), Augustine ([392–418
CE] 1956:lxvii) developed the term, alienatio mentis a sensibus corporis. This
10 Alienation, affect in historical context
referred not to an estranged and forlorn mind, but to a spiritual elevation beyond
the senses; this positive act was believed to constitute union with God, or being
at home in a divine realm. Here, alienation means the separation of the individual
from ordinary reality, upon experiencing an extra-ordinary, spiritual reality. The
attainment of this spiritual enlightenment involved a circular journey of the kind
taken in Augustine’s own life. In his vanity, Augustine had fallen away from ‘God’;
he had gone to a far country where he engaged in fornication and experienced dis-
unity, fragmentation, and scatteredness, whence he returned to seek purification.
Augustine thus ended where he had begun, “in a marital union with the Bride-
groom from, whom, in our wandering, we departed; the journey ended in the
City of New Jerusalem,” and to “a person who is both male and female, a father
who is also the mother, the bridegroom, and the spouse” (Augustine [397–400
CE] 2006:270, cited in Abrams 1973:167). It might perplex that a world beyond
sex would be described in such terms, but in the works of Christian fiction, the
individual seeks a land, or a home, “which is the dwelling of a woman of irresist-
ible erotic charm.” Success is characterized as “betrothal or marriage,” where the
female becomes the “focus of all desires, whose beauty lures the pilgrim by degree
back up to the fons et origo of all love, light, and joy” (Abrams 1973:168).
Throughout the Middle Ages, alienation from the world and from involve-
ment with others, an other-worldly mysticism or a veritable world-alienation,
had, in European civilization, been seen as desirable. Hannah Arendt (1958:209–10,
248–56; see also Arendt and Kohn [1961] 2006:25) developed the concept,
“world-alienation,” to signify a turning away from the common world, a sense
of otherness toward human-made things and from the sharing of experience with
others. In this mentality, which persisted through the so-called Renaissance period
and into the 17th century, only alienation from ‘God’ was seen as undesirable; this
was exemplified in the myths of Satan’s expulsion from Heaven and of the Fall
of Man. The doctrine of John (2:25) exhorted: “Love not the world, neither the
things that are in the world, . . . the lust of the flesh, . . . of the eyes, and the pride
of life.” There was in the Middle Ages “a predilection for voyaging, wandering,
and homelessness as expression of spiritual world-alienation” (Howard 1974:52).
This notion of the homeless wanderer existed in early Christianity, according to
which believers’ terrestrial lot is that of the alien or stranger, the viator or traveler,
who seeks only temporary shelter on the journey through this life.
The early Christian tradition thus brought to the Middle Ages two distinct con-
ceptualizations of alienation: estrangement from God, a purely evil condition; and
estrangement from the world, considered a duty and a privilege necessitated by
rebel angels’ and Adam’s and Eve’s disobedience. Had these calamities not hap-
pened, there would be no need to feel as alien or stranger in this world. Because
they did occur, St. Paul could assert that, as long as the human being is embodied,
he or she is an exile from the Lord (Ladner 1967:238).
In the 12th century, the meaning of purposeful alienation-from-this-world
slightly changed. That century experienced a remarkable, yet poorly understood,
upsurge in the production of cultural and social forms.4 Alongside this burst of
positive energy a sense of pessimism and gloom developed and the world was
 The ancient world to early modernity 11
condemned with “extravagant language.” Individuals were preoccupied with the
notion that “worldly life is mutable and transitory, that its pleasures are vain and
disappointing, that man is fallen, his nature corrupted, and his body infirm” (How-
ard 1974:53). A specific emotion accompanied this pessimism, namely a despis-
ing, scorn, or, more generally, contempt, for worldly things, a contemptus mundae
(Howard 1966:68–75). Here, the ‘world’ refers not to the earth or to the heavens,
or to the physical universe, but to all that is human, including ‘worldliness’ or
engagement in spheres of actions, institutions, and carnal temptations. When we
commune with nature, indwell in a God-concept, or sink deeply into our own
thoughts, we are in a state of non-communication with the world, and experience
“world-alienation.” This term describes the medieval and Renaissance mentality,
and Arendt (1958:248–57) used it to describe “loss of the common world,” and
sense of otherness with respect to man-made things, or a sense of the meaningless-
ness and uselessness of the world.
The world-alienation that was ‘endemic’ to the Middle Ages ushered in an irra-
tional distrust of reason (partly as rebellion against scholastic rationalism); reason
was assessed as possessing but feeble power to influence nature or the corrupted
social world replete with vanity, misery, and mutability. World-alienation existed
both as an ideology and as a complex of emotions. It was the sentiment that, in
order to lessen one’s alienation from ‘God’, one must alienate oneself from the
world. Pope Innocent III ([c. 1195] 1969), for example, in his highly influential
De Miseria, articulated this belief, and claimed that “Riches lead to immorality,
pleasures to shame, and honors to vanity.”
Especially in the 14th and early 15th centuries, this de contemptu tradition
promoted a view of death as the great leveler, that “illustrates the mutability of
all worldly things and alienates every man . . . from the transitory loves of this
world” (Howard 1974:57). Only a few treatises upheld human dignity, and only in
Italy; contempt for the world prevailed throughout Europe, until the 17th century.
Indeed, “the fifteenth, sixteenth, and seventeenth centuries were obsessed with
death, with the vanity of earthly pursuits, with the mutability of the world itself.
The final alienation of the dying man from the world was forever in their thoughts”
(Howard 1974:58; see also O’Connor 1942).
During the Middle Ages and the so-called Renaissance, this world-alienation
formed the dark undertone of a gradually emerging secular spirit, for “surely fear
of death goes hand in hand with love of life” (Howard 1974:59). Schisms in Euro-
pean civilization stimulated a 12th-century burst of cultural energy. Society was torn
between the despairing demands of, and warning by, adherents of contemptus mundi,
versus those who participated in the emergence of secular feelings. This age “became
at once more zestful and more despairing, more worldly and more otherworldly”
(Howard 1974:59). The palpable threat of a secular mentality led to “various persecu-
tions,” and in the 14th and 15th centuries, “the alienation of man from their fellows
came to its fullest potential of horrors” (Howard 1974:59). With sadistic fury, heretics,
Cathars,5 deviants, and witches were tortured and burned alive (Ladner 1967:255–6).
The medieval doctrine of world-alienation was not a pure condemnation of
worldliness, but was rather a “special style of worldliness” (Howard 1974:61).
12 Alienation, affect in historical context
While the human condition is largely wretched and painful, the human being is
created good, and therefore possesses a certain dignity. The body, while vile, was
created by God, and is therefore not evil. While our senses lead to temptations,
bodily impulses can lead to good actions. In the Renaissance, the idealized sculp-
tures of the human body make it an object of interest, of artistic appreciation, and
of contemplation. The secular trend that gradually developed was an overcom-
ing of medieval alienation from the world. There developed a veritable thirst for
knowledge of the natural and historical world. An inclination to observe things
developed, not as they ought to be but rather as they are and as they actually appear
to the observer (using the geometry of perspective space and, more generally,
mathematics) at a particular time and place.
Following St. Augustine and the triumph of Christianity in Western civiliza-
tion, theology was controlled by a Church increasingly bent on the acquisition
of power and wealth. Under this regime, the concept of world-alienation very
gradually transformed into a secularized conceptualization of alienation, albeit
within a religious shell. As the Middle Ages transitioned to the modern era, a
trend emerged of converting everything, including what had been seen as sacred
and inalienable, into an alienable, that is, saleable, object. The term, ‘alienation’,
came to be given an economic meaning, universal salability, or the transformation
of everything, including humans and human relationships, into marketable com-
modities. Balzac’s (1835) Melmoth Reconcilié (cited in Mészáros 1970:33), for
example, describes an imaginary state, in a totally secularized society, where “even
the Holy Spirit has its quotation on the Stock Exchange.”
Martin Luther (lived 1483–1536) criticized the Catholic Church’s economiza-
tion of religion, disputed that forgiveness from sin could be purchased with money,
and, in 1517, confronted indulgence salesmen with his Ninety-Five Theses. As a
man of genius, Luther had accused the Church of alienating men from God, and
then created a religious movement. Paradoxically, Luther’s notion of “liberty”
embodied that very secular principle of “universal saleability” which Luther had
denounced. (Mészáros 1970:34–5).
The Reformation created equality between individuals by dispensing with the
priestly mediation between man and God. Now common people as well as title-
holding religious functionaries had access to the Divine. Luther’s Reformation
intensified a sense of alienation on another level, however. Because it emanci-
pated the Many from the controls of an apparently unitary and communal world,
it fragmented followers into separate, more or less free, individuals now com-
pelled to act as their own agents in an increasingly competitive economic order.
Amidst these trends, the medieval Lord acquired power to “dispose of his own
[servant], and transfer the same at his pleasure, the master may therefore alienate
his dominion over them . . . by his will” (Hobbes [1640] 2009:104). This idea
found fuller expression in the emerging corporate-liberal ideal of the free alienabil-
ity of everything, whether land or personhood, through contractual arrangement.
The alienation, through sale, of inanimate objects remained unproblematic, and
feudal society’s prohibitions concerning the alienation of certain living things had
been overcome. It only remained for the individual “to be reified – converted into
 The ancient world to early modernity 13
a thing, into a mere piece of property for the duration of the contract – before it
could be mastered by its new owner (Mészáros 1970:34–5).
Luther’s theological conceptualization of human alienation preserved the four-
stage structure articulated in ancient Biblical texts, especially in Paul. In the first
stage, ‘oppression’ lies in the duality of the carnal nature of the body and of human
spiritual nature (and in the oppressive tyranny of the Catholic Church and its doc-
trine of ‘good works’). In the second stage, this oppressive situation experiences
inversion, through a willful act of faith, in which one commits to servitude to
others, thereby turning an oppressive bondage inside out, advancing to an exalted
stage of bondage. In stage three, through faith there is a disengagement, or an
alienation, from finite reality; this elevates the individual’s status to ‘lord’ over sin
and even death, enabling one to attain the fourth and highest stage. Here, one is a
free ‘servant of all’, yet ‘lord of all’, overcoming death and attaining eternal life
in a realm where all structures of power are abolished, all are equal, and there is
compatibility between individual and community. This requires full submission to
the will of God, so that, for the fortunate inhabitant of this putative paradise, “My
power is made perfect in weakness” (II Corinthians 12:9). This theology has been
described as a ‘negative transcendence’ of human alienation.

17th- and 18th-century social contract theorists

Several 17th-century scholars, particularly Grotius, Hobbes, and Locke, employed
the concept of alienation to analyze the relationship between individuals, as citi-
zens, and political leadership. They hypothesized a social contract wherein indi-
viduals alienate their freedom to a sovereign power in exchange for protection and
social order. Only when social order prevails can individuals enjoy a true higher-
order liberty (Schacht 1970:17). Eighteenth-century social contract theorists, espe-
cially Rousseau, further elaborated such a social contract and additional alienating
features of everyday social life in the modern world. These scholars secured the
concept of alienation a place in social and moral philosophy, and inspired later
theorizing in the emerging social sciences.

Grotius
Hugo Grotius ([1631] 1977:41–2) viewed the individual’s “sovereign authority,”
or unrestricted right to self-determination, as alienable, or transferrable to another.
Just as an individual alienates, or freely relinquishes, his freedom to another, in
return for protection and services, so also a whole people can subject themselves
to a sovereign power. Grotius considered this surrender of freedom the basis of
all political authority. While an individual might transfer use rights over his own
freedom to a master, he may not entirely dispose of his freedom by contract, for
one’s self is a possession to which has only limited rights, not complete owner-
ship (Grotius [1625] 1901:1.1.5). The most fundamental human characteristics,
or attributes of character that make of men moral beings, are inalienable (Grotius
[1631] 1977:47).
14 Alienation, affect in historical context
Hobbes
In his Leviathan, Thomas Hobbes similarly explored alienation as key to the
relationship between a social contract and individual liberty. Hobbes ([1651]
1985:189–90) wrote: “To lay downe a mans Right to any thing, is to devest himself
of the Liberty, of hindering another of the benefit of his own Right to the same.”
An individual thus enters into a social contract by relinquishing, or alienating, his
right of “doing anything he liketh”; he transfers to the sovereign the right to use
his power “for the preservation of his own Nature; that is to say, of his own Life.”
Only a sufficiently powerful sovereign, Hobbes maintained, can “bridle mens
ambition, avarice, anger, and other Passions, without the feare of some coercive
Power” (Hobbes [1651] 1985:196). Hobbes, a radical individualist, believed that
when individuals relinquished their political autonomy to one person, they gain
life in a commonwealth and avoid a state of nature, which he imagined as a “warre
of every man against every man” (Hobbes [1651] 1985:188). Without such order
based upon laws, and rulers to enforce them, there could be no civilization – no
industry, navigation, knowledge, time-reckoning, arts and letters, law and justice,
and no true civil liberty. Instead, “continuall feare, and danger of violent death
[would obtain, making] the life of man, solitary, poore, nasty, brutish, and short”
(Hobbes [1651] 1985:186). Alienation of one’s power to a sovereign individual
is not necessarily irreversible, however, and the overthrowing of a sovereign can
result in de-alienation, insofar as power is restored to the citizenry. Locke and
Rousseau further considered abrogation of a social contract.6

Locke
In his Essay Concerning Human Understanding, John Locke (1690b) held that
humans have no innate ethical or logical principles, only appetitive inclinations,
particularly “a desire of happiness, and an aversion to misery” (Locke [1690a]
1980:70). Locke’s view of the social contract was milder than Hobbes’s was.
Individuals relinquish political power, but to a ruler constrained by law and a
legislature, whose powers are not arbitrary, but rather limited to adjudicating and
punishing offenses against “lives, liberties, and estates,” that is, against property
(Locke [1690a] 1980:70). Many scholars regard Locke’s qualified view of the
social contract not as an alienation social-contract theory, per Grotius and Hobbes,
but rather an agency social contract, as the sovereign’s power is limited and only
on loan (Hampton 1995:3–4). Locke’s views of alienation and unalienable rights
remain controversial. One school of thought argues that Locke viewed most rights
as alienable, with the qualification that the right to place oneself in extreme danger,
or commit suicide, belongs only to God, and is therefore not alienable or transfer-
rable to another (Simmons 1992:222–3). Other scholars (e.g., Glenn 1984) argue
that Locke’s prohibition of suicide meant that Locke’s theory of inalienable rights
was based on human reason, not on God.7
Locke’s concept of alienation was applied to cases wherein a ruler loses power.
First, if a ruler becomes subordinate to another, this “alienation of his kingdom”
 The ancient world to early modernity 15
betrays his people’s liberty by subjecting it to the “power and dominion of a for-
eign nation” (Locke [1690a] 1980:§238). Locke’s second case involves a ruler who
quits, or designs to quit, and who, “ipso facto, becomes no king,” and thereby loses
all royal authority. Nero of Rome, for example, schemed to ruin his kingdom, as
he was “resolved to cut off the senate and people of Rome, lay the city waste with
fire and sword, then remove to some other place.” The Roman Emperor Caligula
similarly “wished that the people had but one neck that he might dispatch them
all . . . and retire to Alexandria” (Locke [1690a] 1980:§238).

Rousseau
In The Social Contract, Jean-Jacques Rousseau (1762b) endeavored to explain
how humans had advanced from a natural state of self-sufficiency8 to one of depen-
dence and alienation within civil society. Rousseau’s political–individual solution
to the problem of alienation extended beyond a critique of social-contract theory.
Rousseau’s view of alienation was indeed a “pivotal point in the history of the
concept” (Campbell 2012:xi), because it transformed the concept of alienation
to reference the condition of humans’ self-awareness as conscious moral agents.
Although Grotius, Hobbes, and Locke had explored this theme, Rousseau, in
Émile (1762a) and The Social Contract (1762b), was the first to articulate a social-
psychological perspective on alienation. Rousseau maintained that, while the
modern detailed division of labor made life more convenient and easier, it also
separated individuals from their true nature. Rousseau saw wage labor separating
men from the products of their labor. For Rousseau, as later for Marx, “the primary
effect of the division of labor is . . . to enslave [men] by making the exercise of
their own capacities dependent on their fellows’ alien wills” (Gauthier 2006:14).
But whereas Marx was to emphasize the social relations of capitalist production
as sources of alienation, Rousseau (1754, [1762a] 1979:40–1) focused on social
and psychological factors that led individuals to seek external sources of esteem
based on the high opinion of others. Individuals who present an artificial, false self
to the social world through the creation of social fronts experience self-alienation,
or a separation between the true self and the socially presented, inauthentic self,
wherein “one’s needs, passions, and emotions are conventional and false” (Camp-
bell 2012:xvi). Rousseau considered it paradoxical that socioevolutionary develop-
ments that had enabled self-awareness and empathy for others could nonetheless
make individuals feel a sense of separation from both.
This ability for both self-regarding and other-regarding, Rousseau believed, is
what separates modern man from his primitive predecessors. Rousseau argued
that, “[t]he problem that gives rise to alienation . . . is that one relies too much
on what others think to confirm whatever conception of one’s worth one has”
(Neuhouser 2008:85). This brought about a need for yet another emotion, accep-
tance, as there emerges an active desire for social acceptance and approval, plac-
ing a value on the evaluations of oneself by others, which instills a competitive
desire to be “the best, the most esteemed (Rousseau [1754] 1986:149). In turn,
this leads to a proliferation of emotional states, as the self-aware man comes
16 Alienation, affect in historical context
to be “conspicuously lacking in contentment” (Campbell 2012:27). Rousseau
([1754] 1986:149) wrote, “From these first preferences were born on the one
hand vanity and contempt, on the other shame and envy; and the fermentation
caused by these new leavens eventually produced compounds fatal to happiness
and innocence.”
Thus, the alienation of modern man would appear to involve a range of emo-
tions. The experience of alienation not only involves cognitive assessments of
social situations but also involves the emotions. Different kinds of alienation,
Rousseau realized, result in the experience of different emotions. Rousseau also
identified an emotional basis for the valuing of freedom and liberty, namely the
natural sentiment of self-love which men share with animals and which motivates
self-preservation. As self- and other-consciousness develops, comparison of one-
self to others leads to the emotion of pride – a preference for oneself and one’s
abilities. This necessitates replacing instincts with laws, values, and mores, and
violence with right and rights. Rousseau observed that, in modern society, social
interactions become damaging to individuals’ psychological state, standing in the
way of attaining wholeness and independence (Yack 1992).
The modern development of self and self-consciousness also stimulated the
development of emotional ties to others, which enabled moral, that is monoga-
mous, love. This narrowing of man’s desires creates the new passions of envy and
jealousy (the emotion of mate-protection and possessiveness), as humans culti-
vate the capacity to see the similarities and differences in their own and others’
circumstances of life, and to value public esteem (Rousseau [1754] 1986:149).
Rousseau’s accomplishment was thus to give alienation a social-psychological
interpretation, and to link alienation to a variety of emotion-laden states of mind.
His concept of alienation can be seen as self-estrangement and social alienation,
illustrated by the modern preoccupation with esteem and social status, and with
pride and shame: “To be and to seem to be became two altogether different things;
and from this distinction came conspicuous ostentation, deceptive cunning, and
all the vices that follow them” (Rousseau [1754] 1986:155). Alienated from his
natural self, man comes to desire only his false self. The things that man strives
for in an effort to satisfy these desires ironically drives him further away from his
original nature. Jean Starobinski (1988:27) adds that,

Social man constantly invents new desires which he cannot satisfy on his
own. He needs wealth and prestige. He wants to possess objects and dominate
minds. He is truly himself, he believes, only when he enjoys the ‘consider-
ation’ and respect of others on account of his wealth and appearances.

And as Campbell (2012:32) puts it,

Man steps away from his natural self in order to create a false, public self and,
with this division, becomes weakened and distracted. . . . He must contend
not only with the division between his appearance and his reality, but he must
assume the same of those he meets. . . . He becomes, in a word, alienated.
 The ancient world to early modernity 17
The modern, urban sense of alienation, Rousseau recognized, contains the irony
of feeling isolated, even lonely, in a crowd, where social behavior is characterized
by a “false veil of civility” (Campbell 2012:xixn1). Whereas social-contract theo-
rists had considered life and morality as inalienable, Rousseau ([1754] 1986:168)
asserted that, as for life and freedom, “it would offend both nature and reason to
renounce them whatever the price.” Rousseau demanded that one’s spirit, one’s
self-integrity, also be preserved. He recognized that the self is to some extent
socially embedded, influenced by social arrangements and social relationships,
and has a psychosocial reality beyond life and property.
Rousseau rejected the idea that monarchs are divinely empowered to create
laws, for in a just society citizens can alienate their power only to those who
uphold the general will (volonté générale) of the citizenry; this a form of social
solidarity is achieved and institutionalized by a social process on behalf of the
welfare of the whole. Governments, which must function separately from the
sovereign body politic, exist as particular wills necessary to address particular
matters. Rousseau thus argued that even heads of governments are legitimate
only insofar as they are subordinated to the sovereign rule of laws protecting
the equality, character, freedom, and perfectibility of the citizenry. Individual
alienation is thereby overcome through the higher-level alienation of the self to
the community. Through the triumph of the moral will, unifying collectivities
emerge which can enable true citizens to create true communities. Rousseau thus
advanced the idea that alienating one’s interests to the community’s will enables
retention of political liberty and remedies the alienating characteristics of modern,
materialistic civil society.
Rousseau thus transformed the meaning of alienation from the objective, struc-
tural, and legal-political interpretation of earlier social-contract theorists, to an
interpretation of alienation as a subjective, social-psychological condition. He
developed many insights into the importance of “social configurations,” social
relations, and community in overcoming alienation, and for imagining a socio-
political order in which one’s social identity, liberty, and freedom are unalien-
able (Campbell 2012:2). Under no conditions, Rousseau maintained, can one’s
freedom be legitimately surrendered to another, either voluntarily or by force, for
freedom is an inalienable aspect of human nature. Rousseau nonetheless pessimis-
tically argued that such freedom could not be found in sophisticated constitutional
arrangements, because “the very fibre of modern society itself was utterly corrupt,
alienating man from man in ways that sapped liberty, destroyed virtue, and caused
decay” (Porter 2001:25).
Rousseau (1754) advanced the concept of alienation beyond the legal-political
relationships it denoted in ancient times, and paved the way for the modern, social-
psychological conceptualization of humans’ alienation as conscious and moral
beings. Rousseau also inspired the development of Romanticism and influenced
the use of the notion of alienation by romanticists. We will return to this topic in the
next chapter, but first we set the stage for understanding romanticism as a protest
against the scientific and industrial development of the modern world, especially
of the Enlightenment.
18 Alienation, affect in historical context
Notes
1 Words for an insane person include aliéné in French and alienado in Spanish. In a court
of law until recently, a psychiatrist evaluating a possible case of insanity in a legal pro-
ceeding was called an “alienist” (see Schacht 1970:10–13). In Middle High German (from
the 12th to 15th centuries), Entfremdung referred both to taking or stealing a person’s
possessions and to an individual’s loss of consciousness, as in cases of coma or stupor;
later, this term indicated estrangement of one person from another.
2 Erich Fromm (1961:44n2) observed that this psychology also applies to the fanatic,
who experiences an emptiness and inner deadness, but chooses an idol (a state, a party,
a leader, an idea, or God), which is made into an absolute and submitted to absolutely,
which can convey a sense of meaning and excitement but which is unproductive and
permits the redeeming of only a part of what the believer originally possessed.
3 In St. Jerome’s 4th-century Latin translation of the Bible, the Vulgate, the phrase is
“aleinatea a vita Dei.”
4 The Renaissance of the 12th century was marked by a fresh and vigorous aesthetic,
social, and cultural life. The accomplishments of this period include the construction of
Gothic abbeys, monuments, and cathedrals; chivalry and courtly love; the development
of a love of beauty and belief in the value of works of art; an explosion of vernacular
poetry; the establishment of universities; translations of Hellenistic and Islamic works
of natural science, mathematics, and philosophy; the beginnings of bureaucratic states;
the renewal of Roman law and literary classics; the journeys of exploration of, and trade
with, the East; and innovations in technology, including windmills, paper manufacture,
the compass, the stern-mounted rudder, and the development of cartography and sail-
powered galleons (Haskins 1927).
5 Catharism was a Gnostic reformist version of Christianity which saw matter as inherently
evil, created by the Devil, so the body was as an unholy prison housing the pure soul. The
worst crime, they believed, was procreation, because it imprisoned yet another soul. “At
the extreme of their alienation for the material world was the occasional practice of the
‘endure’, ritual suicide by starvation” (Kinsman 1974:60; see also S. Runciman 1947).
6 Hobbes’s contractarian argument faced a thorny problem in the idea of succession, which
in the ancient world could be simple indeed. For example, when the dying Alexander the
Great was asked who would succeed him, he is reported to have replied, “The strongest.”
7 The fundamental ambiguity of Locke’s views resulted not from conceptual confusion but
rather from Locke’s political intentions. His complex view of human nature enabled him
to argue that while men cede power to civil society, government has not consequently
been given unlimited power; rather men rather retain the right to alter governments if
a majority wishes change. This provided Locke, and the Whigs, a clever rationale to
covertly conspire against Charles II in 1679–83 and openly oppose James II in 1688,
leading to the rule of Mary II and William III in 1689.
8 Rousseau advanced the dubious proposition that primitive humans lacked self-conscious-
ness and a conscious awareness of others, and therefore lacked the mental capability
of being alienated. One measure of self-consciousness is the mirror test: An animal or
human is marked on the forehead; touching the mark while looking in a mirror indicates
self-recognition. Given that many large-brained animals (including bonobos, chimpan-
zees, orangutans, dolphins, and elephants) can pass this test, it is likely that primitive
humans could also (TenHouten 2013b:168–9). Possession of self-consciousness is a pre-
requisite for the possibility of self-estrangement, but does not imply its existence.
2 Alienation and affect in
18th- and 19th-century
social philosophy

From early modernity to the Enlightenment

Early modern Europeans had sought a ‘scientific’ discourse concerning the emo-
tions and passions. Initially they relied on a psychophysiological conceptualiza-
tion, Galenic humoralism. Galenic four-humor theory held that a person’s health
and temperament depended on a balance between four humors and their associated
affective states (black bile, sanguinity and optimism; yellow bile, anger and irrita-
tion; phlegm, calmness and apathy; blood, melancholy and depression) (Temkin
1973). This fourfold model held sway for two millennia, before the development of
modern medicine upended it in the 17th and 18th centuries. Galenic descriptions of
passions and temperaments were henceforth downgraded from actual phenomena
to mere metaphors (Paster 2004), and scholars began to see the passions of the
mind and body in a new light.
The rationalist philosopher René Descartes’s (1637, 1641) thought experiments
led to his assurance that Mind, conscious of its own reasoning, must exist: “Cogito
ergo sum.” Descartes posited the solitary individual, the thinking self, as certain of
its own existence, yet skeptical about the existence of other selves and the sensed
external world. Descartes’s speculations about the relationships between reason
and passion, while invalid, facilitated seeing the passions as phenomena subject to
understanding and, therefore, to better control. For Descartes (1649), the passions
(desires and emotions) were a partial solution to Mind–body dualism insofar as
passions create a unity between Mind and body. Felt within ourselves and observed
in others, passions provide clues and cues for functioning effectively in the social
world. Despite his gesture to the emotions and his half-hearted effort to classify
them, Descartes had nonetheless introduced an ontological division between cog-
nition and emotion. Kant later reinforced this dichotomy by identifying reason as
the primary basis of law, morals, and constitutional government.
Despite the ascendance of rationalism in the works of Descartes and Kant and its
celebration in the so-called ‘Age of Reason’, widespread attention in the 17th–18th
centuries focused on the human mind’s non-rational aspects. Focus on the passions
contributed to a view of the mind and the world that went beyond a Cartesian dual-
ism, to a subjectivist participation in the world. Consistent with a synthesizing urge
in early Western philosophy, many prominent scholars1 endeavored to classify, and
20 Alienation, affect in historical context
tame, the passions. These scholars, however, recognized that reason and emotion,
while different categories of the mind, can operate synergistically and generate
productive action. If properly channeled and morally grounded, human sentiments
and emotions, such as love, pride, and ambitiousness, can contribute to human
progress (L. Crocker 1963; James 1997; Frazer 2010).2

Enlightenment rationalism, Enlightenment sentimentalism,

and the passions
Within the Enlightenment, during roughly the 1620s–1780s, two primary streams
of thought were developed: First, the Enlightenment rationalists created a putative
‘Age of Reason’. They believed that, while the passions are not to be banished,
they must obey the duties of their station and keep their proper place. These ratio-
nalist views were supported by the emergence of science, logic and mathematics,
technology and industrialization, and, most generally, by modernization. A second
stream of Enlightenment thinkers, the sentimentalists, recommended not only an
age of reason but also of “moral sentiments,” or “reflectively refined feelings,”
based on the faculty of sympathy, or empathy (Frazer 2010:4).
Besides sentimentalism, a deeper critique of Kantian ethics, rationalism, indus-
trialization, science, mathematics, and more generally of the Age of Reason,
emerged. This intellectual, artistic, and literary movement was Romanticism,
which especially flowered in the first half of the 19th century. It was a reaction
against several interrelated developments, including the Enlightenment’s so-called
Age of Reason; the Scientific Revolution led by Copernicus, Kepler, Galileo, and
Newton, particularly its cosmic displacement of humanity as the center of the uni-
verse; and the Cartesian view of human and animal bodies as physical mechanisms.
Enlightenment rationalists venerated reason-based science and differentiated
thought and feeling, but typically they did not endeavor to suppress passion and
emotion. Many Enlightenment philosophies regarded feelings and sentiments as
the wellsprings of true morality (e.g., Ashley-Cooper 1711; Hutcheson 1728). With
a few lamentable exceptions, romanticists likewise did not entirely dismiss the sci-
entific enterprise, or seek to overthrow reason per se, but rather held that truth can
only be fully apprehended by the mind’s non-rational faculties, that is, by insight,
enthusiasm, passion, intuition, originality, and, above all, imagination.

The roots of romanticism and romantic notions of alienation

[H]e who discerns nothing but Mechanism in the Universe, has in the fatalest way
missed the secret of the Universe altogether.
– Thomas Carlyle ([1840] 1993:149)

The Enlightenment’s hegemony of reason and resultant skepticism engendered

many responses, including the proto-romantic or early-romantic Sturm und Drang,
a late-1760s–early 1780s movement in German music and literature. Its mem-
bers saw individuality as a form of creativity based not primarily on reason but
 18th- and 19th-century social philosophy 21
rather on feeling and emotion.3 They also rejected Enlightenment philosophers’
and scientists’ mechanistic view of the physical universe, and insisted instead that
the individual is self-regulating and capable of acting, not mechanically, but with
will and agency. They sought to overcome the ontological division consequent to
Cartesian Mind–body dualism, and held that feeling and emotional experience are
necessary for knowing the world of objects, for creativity, for imbuing life with
meaning, and for acting with intentionality.
Romanticism can be traced to the early Greeks. In discussing Eros in his Sym-
posium, Plato focused not on a dispassionate rationality, but on Ideas possessing a
transcendental essence. When directly experienced by the pure philosopher, these
Ideas could evoke an intense emotional response, even a mystical rapture. Roman-
ticism, as an intellectual, literary, and artistic movement, thus began long before
it gained prominence. It was later to spawn existentialism, phenomenology, and
humanism, and persists today (Kravitt 1992; Berlin 1999:118–47). The romanticists
believed that industrial mechanization had corrupted humanity’s highest imaginative
values, for men had grown mechanical in head, heart, and hand. As a 19th-century
social movement, Romanticism represented a recrudescence of forces that had accu-
mulated in Western civilization since the 12th century’s Renaissance. These forces
militated against cold science and administrative technology, which increasingly
prioritized quantitative, instrumentally rational thought and action and diminished
the importance of value-based rationalities, emotions, sentiments, and passions.
Rousseau became an intellectual inspiration for romanticism; indeed, he has
been described as its “father” and its “high priest” (Ergang [1939] 1954:641).4
Rousseau showed enthusiasm for the intrinsic goodness and beauty of nature – of
wild landscapes, primitive peoples, and medieval exoticism (e.g., in Keats’s “La
Bell Dame sans Merci”). Romantic landscapes, forces of nature, were personified
into spirits with mood and feeling; even a tree could be lonely and dream of an
exotic, far-away love (e.g., Heine’s “A Tree Is Standing Lonely”). In celebrating
the sublime and the wild in nature (Walzel 1932; Honour 1979), romanticists held
that instinct, desire, passion, feeling, emotion, sentiment, and imagination propel
authentic human action. Their veneration of human imagination found expression
in art, literature, music, and poetry, and in the world of dreams, visions, and folk-
and fairy tales; some believed these could eventually obviate science.
Rousseau advanced the cause of a radical individualism and potential freedom
from oppressive institutions and governments. He appealed to emotional experience,
believing that emotion comes from nature and from the natural facts of sexual love,
which he saw as humanity’s core source of inspiration.5 In addition to his personal
confessions, Rousseau (1781) articulated an objectless yearning, a sentimental nos-
talgia, which expressed the very essence of the romantic orientation. Through valori-
zation of nature and distrust of cultural forms that prevent men from living naturally,
Rousseau demonstrated that thinking alone will not provide necessary answers; we
must naturally feel what is right, for only our feelings’ and emotions’ intrinsic good-
ness can protect us from oppressive social institutions’ corrupting influence.
Rousseau, and the romanticists, did not focus only on the positive ‘sentiments
of being’, such as happiness, love, awe, and pride; they were also concerned with
22 Alienation, affect in historical context
melancholia, dejection, pessimism, humiliation, despondency, despair, sorrow, and
loneliness (see essays in Faflak and Sha 2014). Perhaps in part for this reason, the
romanticists were the first to regularly use the concept of alienation. This emerges
from man’s awareness of his own uniqueness and terminates in a conscious feel-
ing of separation from someone or something, with whom or with which one
should be united. Consensus concerning concepts and values diminished during a
“heartless time” of political and social turmoil and upheaval, including the Ameri-
can Revolution (1775–83), the French Revolution (1789–99), and the Napoleonic
Wars (1799–1815). These distressing, violent episodes of modernity in crisis had
impressed upon the romantic imagination a sense of malaise, which was given sev-
eral names, including ‘alienation’ (Entfremdung), ‘estrangement’ (Entäusserung),
‘separation’ (Trennung), and ‘division’ (Entzweiung). These terms all denoted the
undesirable condition wherein someone or something that should have a sense of
unity with itself is rather opposed to itself.
Romanticists identified three levels of alienation: (i) Within the self, there was a
division between reason and imagination – sensibility, and a one-sidedness whereby
the reasoning self had been developed at the expense of all other dimensions; in
part, this resulted from occupational specialization and the detailed division of
labor in civil society. (ii) Atomism resulted from the breakdown of communities,
families, and guilds and their replacement with the competitive marketplace; this
promoted competitive individualism and a kind of ruthless anomie (a topic of
Chapter 6). And (iii), the self became separated from nature (Beiser 2003:30–1).

Romantic opposition to reason and science

Le coeur a ses raison que le raison ne connaît point.
– Blaise Pascal [1670] 1897:277

Alienation became a major theme in romanticism (Abrams 1973; Currie 1974;

Peckham 1976; Beiser 2003:30–3; Alison Stone 2014), and, as we show in
later chapters, many modern theorists of alienation had a romantic orientation.
Both sentimentalism and romanticism were counter-Enlightenment movements
that opposed the growing hegemony of Reason. Enlightenment rationalists had
supported a mechanistic worldview, but its emphasis on analysis was seen by
romanticists as divisive insofar as it sought to explain physical, mental, and social
phenomena not by synthesis but rather by disaggregating them into elementary
parts.6 This engendered a view of the human mind as “totally diverse and alien
from its non-mental environment” (Abrams 1973:170–1). This had crystallized in
Descartes’s disembodied Soul, or Mind, and undermined human life’s emotional
character and connection to the world.
Romanticists were not against science per se, but believed that materialistic
science had created a world no longer responsive to human values. Romanticists
conceded that science had contributed to humanity’s liberation from theological
dogma and animistic superstition, and some romanticists were also prominent sci-
entists. Science and technology appeared to have triggered “a new sense of human
 18th- and 19th-century social philosophy 23
alienation,” wherein no “redeeming context” could explain “the larger issues of
human existence” (Tarnas 1991:326). A disturbing rift had developed between man
and nature. If the universe really were a gigantic clocklike mechanism designed by
God, as many early modern philosophers and Deists believed, once set in motion,
it would no longer need its Maker (beyond minor adjustments). And, if mechani-
cal laws of nature governed even human minds, there could be no free will and no
ethical responsibilities (Eichner 1982:12). Romanticism represented a rear-guard
action opposing the dreary inferences seemingly compelled by the modern unity
of science and logical, calculative reason.
As an alternative to science, romanticism offered a pseudo-scientific worldview
intended to overcome alienation from nature, from the oppressive Enlightenment
morality crystallized in Kantian ethics and from the Christian–Enlightenment’s
explanatory ideologies and repression of the passions. Romanticists endeavored
to replace the ‘mechanical philosophy’ (including the Calvinist doctrine of pre-
destination) with an organic view of the cosmos and sought to escape modern
science’s dilemmas and disturbing implications. Philosophies that posited the
existence of matter obedient to mathematical laws, for example, had been driven
to conclude that there is no free will. The romanticists rather posited a universe
that is essentially mental and argued that nature is merely the ego’s field of moral
activity, the ‘nonego’. Whereas Western philosophy had held that whatever is
‘lower’, or further from perfect, must have been created by something ‘higher’
(Plato’s ‘Supreme Good’, Christianity’s ‘God’), romanticists posited the reverse:
the ‘higher’ develops from the ‘lower’, so that an imperfect world develops and
evolves.7 This evolutionary, romantic position conceptualized history as a teleo-
logical process, in which emerging human consciousness would become capable
of fully comprehending the conditions of its own existence. In this romantic image,
the world is no longer a ‘great engine’ or ‘mechanism’ but rather a great organism,
a ‘cosmic animal’, wherein Nature is an unconscious Spirit striving for conscious-
ness. Rivers do not fall mechanically into the sea, but rather strive to the sea.
Romanticists endeavored to overcome ‘the alienation of nature’ by refuting science
and its quantitative, logical, and mathematical reasoning. They promoted the idea
of a dynamically changing biological and ethical human nature, in an evolving
universe wherein everything is alive and organic (Eichner 1982:16–17).8 With
traces of Renaissance vitalism, romanticists imagined an integral universe with-
out absolute divisions, in which everything is interrelated and there is continuity
between the living and the inanimate, man and nature, matter and mind, emotion
and reason (Abrams 1973:172). The romantics were on a quest for spiritual and
erotic ecstasy, unity with nature, self-fulfillment, a mind that feels as well as rea-
sons, and the restoration of human community.

Religion, and alienation from passion and sexuality

As a phase of secular culture, romanticism downgraded ‘God’ from the universe’s
perfect creator to an evolving, omnipresent Spirit. Yet, romanticism gradually
yielded to the forces of modernization and embraced aspects of modernity, at
24 Alienation, affect in historical context
least on the aesthetic and erotic levels (Brunkhorst 1986:410–14). While Christi-
anity had advocated transcending alienation by attaining a higher plane of being,
a far-off, divine world beyond sexuality, romanticism provided a more secular
understanding of alienation and advocated its transcendence through sensual expe-
riences beyond the limits of bourgeois morality.
Many romanticists denounced Christianity’s asceticism (as propounded by Kant
[1775–80] 1963:163–7, [1797] 1996:62), which viewed sexuality as a necessarily
exploitative, objectifying, undignified, animalistic degradation of human nature
(see Hailwood 2014).9 The term ‘alienation’ became a widely used catchword for
romantic intellectuals’ conceptualizations of nature, which referred not only to the
life of plants and animals, but also to humans “doin’ what comes naturally” (Irving
Berlin 1946).10 Passion transforms conventional bourgeois life – with its rigid
social conventions and efforts to limit sexual behavior to procreation – for it now
includes seduction, courtship, homosexuality, promiscuity, even incest; it provides
“means whereby man can rise above the estrangements of ordinary experience”
(Currie 1974:62). Through sexual enjoyment, Hoffman’s Don Juan believed, the
resulting longing enables ‘intercourse’ with the supernatural; this hints at “a secu-
lar religion in which erotic communion with the supernatural transcends man’s
alienation from higher existence” (Currie 1974:63).
Besides its “preponderantly sexual connotation” (Feuer 1969a:73; see also Sha
2014), the romantic concept of ‘alienation from nature’ developed at least two
additional meanings. First, although modern humanity had become estranged or
alienated from nature, humankind was entitled to overcome anything in nature
that is alien to the human mind. Second, the early German romanticists, Novalis
(1798–9) and Schlegel (1799), conceptualized alienation from, and reconciliation
with, nature as the recognition that nature is not fully understandable. We are,
they rightly understood, merely limited parts of nature’s all-encompassing domain
(Alison Stone 2014).

Imagination and aesthetic expression

The romanticists’ path to the transcendence of alienation was erotic but also involved
music, poetry, art, and aesthetic intuition. Romanticists advocated free expression
of artists’ passions and emotions, especially awe, apprehension, terror, the sub-
lime experience of untamed nature (including human passions), and the exotic,
unfamiliar, strange, unbound, and indefinable. Whereas “a purely rational exis-
tence negated life itself” (Koch 1993:123), strong passions and emotions enabled
authentic, aesthetic experience. Romanticists especially sought to revive the emo-
tions and sentiments of pride and sensuality that Christianity had suppressed. They
encouraged naïve credulity and love of wonder, even at the expense of critical
thinking. Through the exercise of imagination, they sought to experience a new
way of perceiving the world, a coloring of the world whereby ordinary things can
be presented to the mind in an unusual way. This allows a freshness of sensation,
a moment that defamiliarizes the familiar; it renders the commonplace a source of
wonder and promises the attainment of a redeeming vision of a new world.
 18th- and 19th-century social philosophy 25
Romantic artists and writers rejected their culture’s explanatory modes and
implemented a strategy of alienation that validated their deviance. They created
space between selfhood and role that allowed a sense of freedom and cultural
transcendence that facilitated their impressive artistic production. They did not
overcome alienation, but plunged into alienation, “with no assurance of what – if
anything – might lie beyond” (Peckham 1976:137, also 21–2, 44, 124).
Many early romanticists believed that the individual of genius, the One among
the Many, would surmount the world’s alienation and establish a realm of perfec-
tion and unity.11,12 Genius attains power to rule, redeem, and create through inner
kinship with the transcendental. To restore the harmony of earlier times, roman-
ticists embraced a revived medievalism, or the Hellenistic ideal (Currie 1974:70,
26–7). Harmony lay not in reason and science, but in the arts, the humanities, and
the passions. Instrumental music and poetry were preeminent among the arts, for
they were evocative of emotions but free of the constraints of reason and precise
concepts (Boyer 1961). Romanticists sought not to discover the truth but rather
to invent it. As John Keats ([1848, 1878] 1947:67) famously stated, “What the
imagination seizes as Beauty must be Truth – whether it existed before or not.”

Critique of industrial, capitalistic society

Romantic poets, artists, and writers were prominent among the early critics of
the modern, industrial, bourgeois, capitalistic civilization that had emerged with
the Industrial Revolution. Romanticism was both an intellectual current and an
anti-capitalistic worldview that condemned the dehumanization and impoverish-
ment of workers, child labor, and draconian Poor Laws. The moral views of the
past had nurtured the creative and imaginative features of handicraft, wherein
the essential components of labor, production, and invention had been fused, and
art and labor had been one (Löwy 1987). Romanticists idealized earlier forms of
life as a Golden Age imagined to have existed in ancient Greece, in the Middle
Ages (where chivalrous knights in shining armor defended the Faith as Crusaders
and rescued damsels in distress), in traditional rural and folk societies (Tönnies
1887), and, especially for Rousseau, in primitive societies. The quality of life in
such close-knit, egalitarian communities had been sacrificed to the hegemony of
quantity, of market exchange, with its cold, instrumentally rational calculation of
price and profit. The law of the market meant that all was measured by utilitarian
standards, qualitative human bonds were dissolved, and imagination, romance, and
enjoyment of nature were extinguished. In the terminology of Chapter 5, a shift
in emphasis of social relations had occurred, from communal sharing to market
pricing. This loss of communal life and its substantial replacement by competi-
tive individualism was widely seen as a source of alienation in the modern world.
Two scholars, Popitz (1953) and Regin (1965), have mistakenly seen the roman-
ticist Schiller as the ‘father’ of the concept of alienation (a claim thoroughly refuted
by Rippere 1981). Immersed in the romanticism of his day, Schiller wrote that the
advent of modern society, with its division of labor and specialized sciences, meant
that humanity had become fragmented and alienated from both itself and from
26 Alienation, affect in historical context
nature. Schiller (1794) imagined that the art of the beautiful would solve modern
humanity’s alienation; this would stimulate the imaginative faculty and thereby
reconcile and unify a “disintegrating mental and social world of alien and warring
fragments” (Abrams 1973:212). Schelling (1800) similarly described imagination
as the artist’s ability both to think and to reconcile contradictions, to unite in a
single activity nature and mind, subject and object, passion and reason.
While artfully rendered, Schiller’s description of his age was but a very con-
ventional conceptualization, composed largely of “social-critical clichés” (Rippere
1981:67). In Schiller’s late-18th-century intellectual milieu, a commonplace under-
standing of alienation had shaped his sociocultural criticism. This romanticist view,
drawing on Rousseau, held that modern societies had undermined the institutions
that encourage the flourishing of the individual, and thereby plunged individuals into
an abyss of unsociable experience and oppressive circumstances.
The romanticists described workers in the ‘satanic mills’ of the new industrial
age as stultified, atrophied, anaesthetized victims of a vast industrial machine. In
misery and degradation, human beings were now “bound to the Ixion’s wheel of
the modern factory” and has become “suffering victims” of the new division of
labor (Coser 1984:xii). Thus, “Schiller’s bureaucratic cog had become Marx’s
cotton-working cog, a different employee who, nevertheless, suffers the same
alienation” (Currie 1974:34). To overcome this alienation, Schiller (1794) argued,
required a balancing of “sensuous nature” and “reason.” Schiller ([1794] 2004:38)
wrote that workers’

mental faculties shew them in idea, and we see not merely individual persons
but whole classes of human being developing only a part of their capacities,
while the rest of them, like a stunted plant, shew only a feeble vestige of their
nature.

Schiller ([1794] 2004:38) added that, “by combining our activities to a single
sphere we have handed ourselves over to a master, who is not infrequently inclined
to end up by suppressing the rest of our capacities.” While the ancient Greeks
could represent their own time, because their focus was on an all-uniting Nature,
modern individuals, in contrast, do not dare to represent their age, because their
form of life is primarily determined by an all-dividing, fragmenting intellect. As
Schiller put it,

Eternally chained to only one single little fragment of the whole, Man him-
self grew to be only a fragment; with the monotonous noise of the wheel he
drives everlastingly in his ears, he never develops the harmony of his being
and instead of imprinting humanity upon his nature he becomes merely the
imprint of his occupation, of his science.
([1794] 2004:39)

The romanticists had argued that the development of enlarged human experi-
ence and more precise scientific questioning necessitated (i) a fragmentation of the
 18th- and 19th-century social philosophy 27
sciences; (ii) specialization of ranks and occupation in the economy, wherein the
worker was reduced to “an ingenious piece of machinery, that botching together
a vast number of lifeless parts,” so that “enjoyment was separated from labor”;
and (iii) a more intricate machinery of governmental bureaucracy emerged, the
‘clockwork of the state’. These interrelated developments had severed the unity of
human nature, such that “the essential bond of human nature was torn apart, and a
ruinous conflict set its harmonious powers at variance” (Schiller [1794] 2004:39).
Man’s resultant fragmented, crippled, wounded existence was not limited to the
workplace, for one’s very personality and humanity were also affected. Schiller
([1794] 2004:29, 31–2, 38–40, 73–4) described a disparity that had developed
between man’s physical existence, “in time,” and his abstract reason, or intellectual
nature, “in idea.” Every man’s task, Schiller asserted, was to harmonize the two
and overcome being at odds with himself. Schiller saw a historical progression
based on a dialectical antithesis between Nature (material phenomena, multiplic-
ity) and Reason (form, unity, and the moral demands of consciousness). After the
Hellenistic era, the story goes, the antagonism of these forces had disintegrated the
human personality; a fall of humanity, to be reconciled in a renewed wholeness.
The perfected moral humanity will emerge through aesthetic education and usher
in human freedom and contentment.
The romanticists felt alienated by life in cities, and regarded the realities of
urban life as separating individuals from their fellow men and preventing the
attainment of their true nature. The wrenching shift from rural to urban life (Don-
nachie and Lavin 2003) had disrupted contact with nature, created indifference to
others, and destroyed human feelings (Simmel 1900; Pribic 2008). The romanti-
cists thus came to see modern man as increasingly self-alienated through the dete-
rioration of cultural values, urbanization and its resulting social estrangement,
and contradictions of character. All of these rendering men vicious and immoral,
capable of cruelty and slaughter, and prone to bullying and humiliating others,
while pretending to be honest and just. In summary, “The romantic generation
suffer[ed] from the increasing profanation of the world, from its mere mechanistic
interpretation, for the disappearance of the poetry of life. . . . Therefore, one can
summarize romanticism . . . ‘as the first self-critique of modernity’” (Von Henkel
1967:296). Romanticism was an effort to regain a sense of the sacred in the face
of Enlightenment beliefs that only quantifiable, material phenomena constitute
the real world (Sullivan [1933] 1959:135–6), that ‘soul’ is reducible to ‘mind’,
and that mind, in turn, is but an artifact of delicate brain mechanisms obeying
physical laws.

Notes
1 These include Thomas Wilson (1604), Hobbes ([1640] 2009:30–9), Senault (1642),
Charleton (1674), Malebranche ([1674–5] 1997:337–407), Spinoza (1677), Locke
([1690b] 1995:160–3), Hutcheson (1728), and Hume (1739:Book II, 1748).
2 As a corollary, it was widely believed that control of the passions enabled a transforma-
tive unleashing of personal efficacy, both for rulers and for the citizenry. These inquiries
stimulated inquiry into the relationship between knowledge and power. A ruler, it was
28 Alienation, affect in historical context
recognized, must be in control of his own emotions and able to grasp and manipulate
the passions of those around him, “to detect and play on the ambition, envy, fear, or
esteem of courtiers, counselors, and citizens” (James 1997:3).
3 Members of the Sturm und Drang had not given names to emotions, believing there is
nothing in such names but empty vaporing and the potential for undermining the expe-
rience of being swept along by ecstatic enthusiasm (Walzel [1932] 1966:12). But later
romanticists came to indulge in painful forms of self-analysis, in which they began to
feel isolated and separated, and sensing loneliness and frustration, thus “activating the
inherent propensity to alienation” (Pribic 2008:5).
4 Isiah Berlin (1999:46–67) suggested that Early German (Jena) Romanticism was not
traceable to Rousseau, whose doctrines still appealed to reason, but to the spirit of
German pietism, especially as articulated by Johann Georg Hamann. Hamann argued
that the Enlightenment’s disembodied reason and instrumental rationality had blocked
human sentiment, and advocated a radical anti-rationalism, claiming that God was not
a geometer or a mathematician but a poet. Words which classify and arrange things
analytically and scientifically destroys their unity, continuity, and vitality; myths and
symbols, in contrast, convey mystery of nature as a living whole in artistic images,
which can revitalize spirituality. Hamann’s student, J. G. Herder, was a main supporter
of the proto-romantic Sturm und Drang association.
5 In Émile (1762a), however, Rousseau took a very straight-laced view of his student’s
sex education, and tried not to leave him alone, night or day, as he worried about the
potential “dire results of a practice about which he [Rousseau] seems to have had first-
hand experience” (Durant and Durant 1967:185). Rousseau told Émile, “I can free you
more easily from slavery to women than from yourself” (letter of March 29, 1765).
6 Romanticists of the conservative German variety opposed the liberal analyses of the
social world that isolated various sociocultural fields such as law, government, and
economy, and the abstraction of individuals from their social contexts. They rather
insisted that society should be seen as an organic whole. This orientation to the social
order as a synthetic totality was shared by Hegel and Marx. Consistent with this view,
Marx argued that because society is a totality, if anything can be changed, everything
must be changed. A difference between conservative romanticists’ and Marx’s anti-
individualism was that the romanticists placed men in their families, estates, and
nations, whereas Marx placed them in social classes (M. Levin 1974:409n2).
7 While opposed to materialistic science, romanticism was a philosophy of evolution, and
contributed, albeit indirectly, to Darwin’s later theory of evolution (see Mead [1936]
1972:215, 153–8).
8 The romanticists embraced an organic theory of nature. While their conceptualization
of the organic was, in today’s terms, largely philosophical rather than scientific, they
were on the right side of a paradigm shift, for they saw matter as acting forces rather
than inert extension. Mechanical physics had experienced great difficulty explaining
forces of attraction and repulsion, which implied action at a distance, but advances in
understanding electricity, magnetism, and chemistry suggested these forces were indeed
omnipresent in nature. Also in biology, the doctrine of preformation due to supernatural
causes was giving way to a model of epigenesis, which saw organisms developing, and
evolving, due to natural causes. Both of these developments led to a view of the unity
of the inorganic and organic joined in a living force (Kraft) that permeated the universe
(Beiser 2003:84).
9 Kant’s aversion to sexual exploitation was consistent with his moral philosophy, which
opposed any form of domination of one person by another. He argued that any use of
others for purposes which are not these other peoples’ but one’s own is a monstrous form
of degradation, which deprives others of their dignity, self-determination, and liberty.
This passionate denunciation of the evils of exploitation, which Berlin (1999:71) called
“the alienation of human beings from one another,” was to become the stock-in-trade
of liberal and social writers in the 19th and 20th centuries.
 18th- and 19th-century social philosophy 29
10 “Sister Rose has lots of beaus/Although we have no parlor/She does fine behind a tree/
Doin’ what comes naturally.” Also, “You don’t have to know how to read or write/When
you’re with a feller in the pale moonlight.”
11 The romantic notion of genius signifies a quality or power, or of the One who possesses
that quality or power. The ‘moral genius’, in German romanticism, in his ‘inner voice’
hears the divine voice and unites the impersonal, divine voice with his personal voice.
Thus, while derived from immersion in his own subjectivity, by pursuing his own inter-
ests and desires, a community of romantic geniuses can articulate moral truth and make
it available to humanity.
12 Humanity, the romanticists believed, needs genius to rescue it from alienation. In this
concept of alienation, the self is divided from itself and from the world of objects. The
ideology of genius holds that the alienated world is divided between the One, those of
genius, and the Many, the masses. The lower values of multiplicity and division has
overcome the higher values that once existed, leaving humanity no longer living as
they once had, in a state of harmony, freedom, and unity, but now rather as fragmented
and lost. But through the work of genius, there opens the possibility of realizing a
higher realm, of restoring, or attaining, a de-alienated unity. The romantic individuals
of genius included artists such as Goethe, Percy Shelly, and Kafka, but also included
post-Reformation absolute monarchs, later charismatic leaders as Napoleon and Hitler,
both of whom promised their followers that they could overcome their weakness, their
alienation from nature and from history, and bring about a better, even transcendent,
world, through the exercise of political and military power.
3 Alienation, from Hegel and
Feuerbach to Marx and Engels

Since Marx introduced into social thought the concept of self-alienation, alien-
ation has everywhere been viewed as an evil; but it need not be so, and was not so
even in Hegel. For it is only through mind in its abstraction from the world that we
can understand the world, and only in death that we can be fully alienated from it.
Without mind we must be thrown utterly upon the world, and those who belong
utterly to the world are aliens unto themselves.
– Donald R. Howard (1974:76)

Hegel
Under the influence of the proto-romantic Rousseau and participants in the roman-
tic movement, the concept of alienation entered into general use in the 18th and
early 19th centuries. Hegel’s first book (1807), Phenomenology of Spirit (Geist),
focused on alienation as “a key concept” (Hyppolyte 1997:178) and a serious
issue for moral and social philosophy. Indeed, Hegel’s entire philosophy arguably
“assigns a central role to the problem of the alienation of the self and the overcom-
ing of it” (Gadamer 1976:106). David Cooper (1999:26) even claims, hyperboli-
cally, that “alienation is not so much the central issue of [Hegel’s] philosophy as
the only one” (as cited in Rae 2011:3–7).
To define alienation, Hegel distinguished between the parting with or relinquish-
ing of property (Entäusserung) and the alienation of self, or self-estrangement
(Selbstentfremdung).1 By self-estrangement, Hegel meant dissociation of the ‘self’
into an actor, an ‘I’, a subject striving to exercise agency and control its own des-
tiny; and a ‘me’, an object, whose identity is controlled or at least influenced by
others, or socially constructed through others’ interactions with and perceptions
of the ‘me’.2 In order not to consume itself, to develop, and to reach its full poten-
tial, the self must separate and become estranged from its innermost subjectivity;
it must engage in painful encounters with the objective world of others (largely
through language use, and requiring estrangement of the self from itself), and
cannot fully return to any former state. Knowledge cannot come from an inner
peace or harmony, as romanticists believed, but through individuals’ engagement
with others in a struggle for mutual understanding. These untidy social interac-
tions involve conversation and contestation of ideas; the self’s sense of itself is,
of necessity, destabilized and subject to dialectical changes and transformations.
 Hegel and Feuerbach to Marx and Engels 31
This ordeal of sociality was seen by Hegel ([1807b] 1967:251) as a positive kind of
alienation; it was painful, even torturous, but nonetheless necessary for the devel-
opment of mind and society, for gaining “understanding of the world” (Howard
1974:76).

Alienation and emotion in Hegel

Hegel’s ‘dialectical’ development of self-consciousness saw emotions as necessary
for transporting the self out of itself. Self-negation is an emotion-laden process that
takes place within “a texture of sympathy” and manifests in feelings of brokenness,
trembling, tears, and laughter (Pahl 2012:5–6, 222–3). These dialectical transports
require involvement with other selves, with their own interests and agendas. Both
subjectivity and the capacity for self-negation are crucial to this process, which
generates a changed self out of the inner contradictions of one’s former being. The
romanticists held that expressing feelings through words extinguishes them and
sought to preserve the interiority of their emotional experiences. Hegel flatly con-
tradicted this philosophy by emphasizing the self-disruptive quality of emotions.
Emotions are dislocated from their human subjects, for emotion-laden experiences
are deeply embedded in the ‘substance’ of social relations and social practice.
In challenging the modern hegemony of rationality and rationalism, the roman-
ticists viewed passion positively, as an expression of human nature. Hegel viewed
passion positively, also, but in a different way. Hegel believed passions possess an
ethical component, and he defined ‘pathos’ as passion for a cause that can motivate
individuals to act upon what is good and right. Because passions propel social
action, they cannot be, as sentimentalists and romanticists claim, merely interior to
the heart. Such interior passions are prone to insincerity, for they can derive from a
private end posing as a universal purpose.3 For Hegel, passions elevated to pathos
can potentially reconcile emotion and reason; they motivate ethical social actions
that are justified by valid reasons. The unity of pathos and reason enables effective
actions based upon firm and steadfast commitments. This ethical calling indicates
good character and proper discipline, and enables the individual to act positively
and authentically in the social world and to thereby overcome any alienation of
emotion and reason.

Alienation and social dominance in Hegel

To explain alienation more generally, Hegel posited a sociohistorical process
wherein consciousness and self-consciousness experience successive stages
of development in the changing relationship between ‘lord’ and ‘bondsman’
(Herrschaft und Knechtschaft).
We saw in Chapter 1 that ancient Christianity’s rhetoric of transfiguration
described an apocalyptic struggle between the powerful and the powerless.
Luther had followed Paul in describing the dialectical struggle between the mas-
ter and servant and saw the subjective experience of alienation in terms of the
fall, redemption, and salvation of Christian believers at the End of Days. Hegel
32 Alienation, affect in historical context
([1807c] 1977:111–19) participated in this apocalyptic tradition, but rejected a
religious framework in favor of an abstract philosophical model that incorporated
theology and politics, and applied to all manifestations of domination and oppres-
sion as experienced by human consciousness.
Hegel described human consciousness as historically progressing through trans-
formative stages by means of a system of inversion (Umkehrung), consisting of
a series of dialectical moments. The initial stage is an antithesis of lordship and
bondage, wherein the bondsman (slave, serf, servant) internalizes the meaning
systems, values, and desires of his lord. Having lost his own self, the subordinated
self “finds itself as an other being,” a being-for-another; it sees only itself in this
other, and does not see the other as real (Hegel [1807b] 1967:229). The lord is
independent and acts for himself; the bondsman is dependent and lives for another.
This dependent servitude is a condition of powerlessness, a variety of alienation,
and involves a set of adaptive emotions. Hegel observed that, for the lord, power
brings recognition, satisfaction of desire, and enjoyment. The powerless bonds-
man rather faces an “alien, external reality” resulting in “fear” and “trembling”
(Hegel [1807b] 1967:239). The master has not established his viewpoint as truth-
ful, but has merely coerced the slave, “out of fear for his life,” to “submit to the
master” (Pinkard 1996:60). Besides fear, Hegel implicitly described the bondsman
as experiencing acceptance. In choosing life over recognition, “[t]he dominance of
the master’s point of view is . . . dependent on the slave’s having come to accept
it as dominant” (Pinkard 1996:60). The slave thus adapts to powerlessness with a
fearful acceptance, which we define (in Chapters 5 and 10) as a secondary emo-
tion, submissiveness.
In the second historical stage, Hegel observes that the bondsman retains his
inferior position but undergoes an ‘inversion of substance’, or an experience of
freedom, wherein his bondage advances to an exalted nature. The bondsman rec-
ognizes his freedom and independence in productive labor, and sees that the lord
is dependent upon this labor. In the initial, fully subservient, stage, the bondsman
had been but an object for another; through working to create objects he becomes
an object to himself and attains freedom of self-consciousness, the ability to think
for himself. Hegel called this historical stage stoicism. Stoicism represents doubt
concerning the reasons for one’s servitude. The stoic sees the arrangement as arbi-
trary and capricious, and develops the idea of real freedom, or the ability to act
for one’s own reasons and in one’s own interests. But this abstract freedom of
reflective thought is not yet actual freedom, for it remains devoid of social content.
In the third historical stage, stoicism is elevated to skepticism, the actual experi-
ence of freedom, in which self-conscious negation “procures for itself the certainty
of its own freedom” (Hegel [1807b] 1967:248). The freed skeptic sees contingency
in all points of view, including his own, and therefore commits a performative fal-
lacy: the skeptic concludes that no claim can be validated, yet this claim contradicts
or invalidates itself. This skeptical self-consciousness thus comes to know itself “as
a consciousness containing contradictions within itself.” All that seemed fixed to the
stoic becomes open to question to the skeptic, whose radical subjectivity is unstable,
disorderly, aimless, and confused. The slave’s mentality, which had been divided
 Hegel and Feuerbach to Marx and Engels 33
between two individuals, becomes a “dualizing of self-consciousness within itself”
(Hegel [1807b] 1967:250–1). Hegel describes this skeptical consciousness as emo-
tionally distressing, as “wearisome,” “withdrawn . . . into itself,” “self-perverting,”
“negative,” “confusing,” a “giddy whirl,” and subject to “pain and sorrow” (Hegel
[1807b] 1967:246–52).
Confronting his own divided nature, the now-liberated bondsman abandons
skepticism. Having no point of view is untenable; he indeed must accept certain
facts and hold certain values and authoritative cultural beliefs even if he cannot
validate such judgments. Skepticism thus advances to the “Unhappy Conscious-
ness, the Alienated Soul which is the consciousness of self as a divided nature, a
doubled and merely contradictory being” (Hegel [1807b] 1967:251). Upon reach-
ing this stage, the now-exalted bondsman has undergone an ‘inversion of form’
(the experience of equality) and achieves a free and independent state of mind. He
experiences membership in a community of equally independent others, thereby
overcoming powerlessness and attaining the absolute negation of lordship. While
this consciousness is undivided, it is nonetheless doubled, for it is itself “the gaz-
ing of one self-consciousness into another, and itself is both, and the unity of both
is also its own essence; but objectively and consciously, it is not yet this essence
itself––is not yet the unity of both” (Hegel [1807b] 1967:251). This internal dis-
unity is not only a source of unhappiness, but “the soul of despair” (Hegel [1807b]
1967:753).
The individual who attains the stage of the unhappy consciousness must endorse
beliefs and values outside of his own subjectivity. He knows that objective truth
cannot be attained by single individuals, and that his subjectivity is relative, con-
tingent, and self-serving. Transcendence of the unhappy consciousness requires a
fusion of the individual’s subjective view with a dispassionate, objective, or ‘God’s
eye’ view; this can only eventuate as a sociohistorical project, manifested in the
long and painful transition of humanity from its ‘ancient’ to its ‘modern’ form.
Self-consciousness, to develop beyond its self-estranged phases, to become
Spirit, must unite the personal and the detached points of view. A detached, uni-
versal point of view can only be attained by transcending the methods that have
historically been tried, including meditation and prayer, belief in supernatural
revelations, physical proximity to putatively divine places (a motivation for the
Crusades), and the devotional practices, rites, and rituals of magic and theology.
The ‘faculty’ that makes this transcendence of an unhappy consciousness pos-
sible, Hegel asserted, was the emergence of a culture of Reason, as applied to
philosophy and the post-medieval investigation of nature through Science. The
modern solution to doubt has been the establishment of “a socially constructed
point of view” (Pinkard 1996:74). This has developed, at its zenith, in the every-
day work of scientists who generate knowledge beyond perception and subjectiv-
ity. Theories and models produced and validated through the scientific method
enable subjective points of view to become aligned with collectively generated
knowledge. The self-estrangement of the “unhappy consciousness” is overcome
with the attainment of a unity of the subjective and objective points of view, of
the particular and the universal; this is indeed what Hegel meant by Reason. The
34 Alienation, affect in historical context
power of a self-determining, modern, logically coherent, scientific methodology,
Hegel believed, can uncover the secrets of physical and biological nature, and
can uncover the hidden laws of social and political institutions. The only ‘faith’
needed to overcome the alienation of the “unhappy consciousness,” then, is “a
‘faith’ that the nature of the world is not something intrinsically alien to our own
way of thinking” (Pinkard 1996:81). Hegel saw the transcendence of the unhappy
consciousness, of self-estrangement, in the subjectivity of the agent (of his desires,
objectives, and ideals), combined with an objective, ethical, and rational justifi-
cation, an “objective spirit.” The self can then act with agency, and achieve and
manifest “self-consciousness” (Hegel 1821). Once consciousness becomes aware
that its subjective particularity has been reconciled with the universal, conscious-
ness becomes spirit, experiences “the joy of finding itself therein” (Hegel [1807b]
1967:253), and transcends alienation.

Feuerbach
The atheistic, materialistic, yet humanistic and romantic, philosopher Ludwig
Feuerbach (1841, 1846) responded to Hegel’s critique of romanticism with a cri-
tique of Hegel. Feuerbach employed the term Entäusserung to denote the external-
izing, or projecting, of one’s mind into a fictitious, putatively supernatural realm,
in a futile effort to transcend the natural world upon which humans depend. Feuer-
bach saw Hegel, and all other speculative philosophers, as priests in disguise.
Hegel’s Absolute Idea, Fichte’s Ego, and Schelling’s Absolute and Infinite Spirit,
he argued, were but substitutes for the Deity (Flew 1991:278). Feuerbach asserted
that human confrontation with the objective, actual, natural world, which exists
independently of consciousness, does not constitute alienation but is rather the
natural condition of human existence. Hegel, in his idealism, had endeavored to
derive nature from a transcendental ‘infinite subject’, a mysterious world Spirit,
in order to conceptualize humans as the ‘finite subject’. But the world, Feuerbach
countered, is objective, physical, and actual, not something merely conjured up
as a sheer act of will by some infinitely intelligent and powerful primordial Spirit.
Feuerbach’s study of religion illustrated the self-alienating process.4 He consid-
ered religious superstition and fetishism the source of alienation, whereby one part
of mind invests in the actual world, another in the projective ideal world of spiri-
tual perfection. Those who choose to indwell in an imaginary realm are alienated
from the world that actually exists. Feuerbach ([1846] 2004:22) insisted that, “the
incomprehensibility of nature” does not justify explaining the inexplicable “by
the supposition of imagined beings, and in deceiving and deluding ourselves . . .
by an explanation which explains nothing.” God, the object of religion but the cre-
ation of humans, is but a conceptualization of humanity’s essential nature. When
humans see themselves as inferior to this ‘God’, they relinquish and renounce what
is essential to humanity.
For Feuerbach, religion was therefore the cause of alienation. Through a neces-
sary disillusionment, his ‘new’ philosophy would eliminate alienation in all its
dimensions, and reconcile individuals to their selves, to nature, to their fellow men.
 Hegel and Feuerbach to Marx and Engels 35
Calling himself Luther II, Feuerbach noted that, whereas Luther had sought to
destroy an institution that claimed to mediate between man and ‘God’, he, Feuer-
bach, sought the destruction of the God-concept itself. To overcome alienation,
one must overcome Christianity’s heritage of venerating suffering – ranging from
masochism to the tradition of clerical celibacy. Feuerbach found bourgeois and
Christian sexual asceticism repulsive, and advocated the recovery of spontaneous
emotional life as key to overcoming this alienation of humanity from its passion-
ate nature. For Feuerbach, and for his followers, the concept of alienation was a
romantic notion with a preponderantly sexual connotation, an expression of Ger-
man intellectuals’ rediscovery of physical pleasures. Alienation involves denial of
the physical world, in large measure a consequence of religious alienation from
sexuality and an intentional separation from the physical and natural world, from
the life of the human species. This abhorrence of the ‘flesh’ was a source of the
idealistic, German, and, especially, Hegelian metaphysics: “Pleasure, joy, expands
man; trouble, suffering, contrast and concentrates him; – in suffering man denies
the reality of the world” (Feuerbach [1841] 1957:118). Only refutation of reli-
gion’s celibacy and its repression of humans as an animal species whose members
naturally enjoy physical pleasure could humans overcome alienation.
Feuerbach saw renunciation of human physicality as a source of alienation, for
he saw humans as alienated from their own nature and from the natural world.
Christians did not see themselves as part of nature, but were on multiple levels full
of desires: (i) not to be bound by causality, revealed in the importance attributed
to miracles; (ii) for immortality, a wish for a personal existence free of necessity;
and (iii) for an explanation of human history, beginning, allegedly a mere 6,000
years ago, with the creation of the Universe, Adam and Eve, the predestined Fall,
the Incarnation, and the final establishment of God’s Kingdom on Earth, at which
time the believing dead will rise, as immortal zombies, from the earth. Belief that
these desires will be fulfilled assumes that nature itself only exists because of a
supernatural Being’s will.

Economic alienation: from Winstanley, Smith, Ferguson, and

Schiller to Marx and Engels
An economic interpretation of the great-circle myth of human fragmentation
and reunification, or assimilation to the Biblical design of history, can be traced
to Gerrard Winstanley (1649), an agrarian communist leader and philosopher
of the True Levellers (also called the ‘Diggers’), during the English civil wars.
Winstanley anticipated Marx by two centuries. When humanity began to sepa-
rate from its Maker, Winstanley argued, a corrupting lust for objects, covetous-
ness of private property, and a frenzy of buying and selling ensued. Communal
life deteriorated into a competition for private property, with destructive effects
upon individual liberty. Acting on these beliefs, the Diggers occupied lands that
had been privatized by enclosures and dug them over to plant crops. Winstanley
advocated an end to the private ownership of land and advocated the leveling
of wealth. A universal love could restore the earth to a common treasury, and
36 Alienation, affect in historical context
undo alienation from communal life, so that all could live in righteousness as
members of a single household. A communistic life with an equality of work
and possessions would fulfill the Revelations prophesy of ‘a new heaven and
a new earth’.
Adam Smith ([1776] 1960:302–3) saw the increasingly specialized division of
labor as necessary for the development of economic prosperity, but acknowledged
that it created problems for industrial workers (West 1969, 1975; Lamb 1973;
Drosos 1996; Hill 2007). While Smith used the term ‘alienation’ only to refer to
the sale of property, he did use the concept of alienation. He suggested that repeti-
tive manual labor degrades the cognitive capabilities and natural inventiveness of
the “laboring poor,” creating a “torpor of the mind”; such work deadens workers’
moral sentiments and corrupts their ‘courage’, thereby rendering them unfit for
military duty. These unfortunate, unintended effects of specialized labor, Smith
believed, could be ameliorated by establishment of a universal and compulsory
educational system, which would inculcate in students a level of civility rendering
them amenable to life as citizens in a market society. Smith recognized that, in
modern, capitalistic society, industrial workers, who form “the great body of the
people,” pay a price; he nonetheless believed the problem could be solved with
existing social relation and institutions.
Sociologist Adam Ferguson [1767] 1996:182–3) also documented the price that
workers in industrial society must pay for the efficiency and affluence enabled by
the detailed division of labor in manufacturing and commerce under capitalism.5
In the modern “commercial state,” Ferguson argued, individuals experience a loss
of community and find themselves isolated, solitary beings, in competition with
fellow workers; the bonds of affection have been broken. Worse, repetitive perfor-
mance of manual operations fragments thought, and reduces workers to mindless
automatons. Ferguson ([1767] 1996:174) exclaimed,

Many mechanical arts . . . require no capacity; they succeed best under a total
suppression of sentiment and reason [and] prosper most where the mind is
least consulted, and where the workshop may . . . be considered as an engine,
the parts of which are men.

Ferguson was the first to conduct a serious investigation of occupational spe-

cialization and its adverse effects on workers. He saw commercialism’s alienating
effects, wherein repetitive work operations narrow workers’ intellectual function-
ing and reduce their capacity to participate in civil life. Despite modern, com-
mercial society’s economic development, Ferguson identified what later thinkers
would label ‘alienation’, particularly from the work process, from community,
and from human nature. Both the social division of labor and the technical sepa-
ration of tasks lead to social alienation and an erosion of moral community (Hill
2007:350). Occupational specialization led individuals away from public involve-
ment towards a concern with what is private, so that society increasingly consists
of parts, “of which none is animated with the spirit of society itself” (Ferguson
[1767] 1996:207). Commercial forms of production contributed to a sense of
 Hegel and Feuerbach to Marx and Engels 37
meaninglessness among workers by impugning the ideal of meaningful work; it
required that workers be

bound to no tasks [and] . . . are left to follow the disposition of the mind, and
to take that part in society, to which they are led by the sentiments of the heart,
or by the calls of the public.
(Ferguson [1767] 1996:176)

Ferguson saw that economic specialization alienates both industrial workers and
members of the dominant and advantaged classes. For the elites, the alienating
effects of idleness, avarice, and luxury enervated civic virtue and national strength,
while the powerless must perform mind-numbing manual labor. This economic
order contributes to a pathological imbalance of power, wealth, and status, so that
“the exaltation of the few” can “depress the many” (Ferguson [1767] 1996:177).
Ferguson’s description of the dehumanizing effects of occupational special-
ization foreshadowed Marx’s and Engels’s later discourse on the same subject,
and Marx acknowledged his debt to Ferguson’s observations about the alienating
effects of the division of labor on manual and mental work, and its stultifying
effects on industrial workers (Marx [1867] 1971:334). Interestingly, while Marx
condemned the exploitation of workers and saw it as leading to revolution, Fergu-
son was a conservative whose main concern was the preservation of public virtue,
not the alleviation of worker ‘alienation’. Ferguson was more concerned with the
elites’ welfare than workers’ (Hill 2007:354).6
Romanticists had also harshly criticized the plight of industrial workers and
the poor; they targeted the exploitative capitalist enterprise and engaged in “an
angry critique of some aspects of bourgeois society” (Peckham 1976:2). Thomas
Carlyle’s (1843) stinging assessment of capitalism profoundly impacted Engels’s
and Marx’s thinking, as did Honoré de Balzac’s relentless romantic critique of
capitalistic civilization (Petrey 1988). In Capital, Marx made frequent mention
of Balzac and urged Engels to read Balzac’s short story, “The Unknown Master-
piece.” Engels ([1888] 2010:168) later proclaimed, “I have learned more [from
Balzac] than from all the professional historians, economists, and statisticians put
together.” Although Marx and Engels rejected romanticists’ past-oriented illusions,
the work of Marx and later Marxists contained an important romantic component,
namely “the romantic revolt against a world which turned everything into a com-
modity and degraded man to the status of an object” (E. Fischer 1970b:15; cited
in Löwy [1993] 2013:5).7
The romanticist Schiller shared Marx’s admiration of Ferguson’s work, and
assimilated his sociological insights (together with statements by Rousseau and
Herder) into his own diagnosis of modern society’s ills: division, conflict, iso-
lation, fragmentation, and alienation had conspired to sever the inner unity of
human nature, leaving individuals only a mechanical kind of collective life. Schil-
ler’s (1794:letter 6) statement on work and alienation poetically critiqued modern,
industrial society and was widely shared by romanticists and early sociologists.
Romanticists promulgated a view of modern societies’ members as fragmented,
38 Alienation, affect in historical context
isolated, and alienated. Romantic anti-capitalism was a thorough critique of mod-
ern industrial civilization, advanced in the name of largely idealized, precapitalist
sociocultural values.
While the romanticists bemoaned worker exploitation, their focus more gener-
ally attacked the quantification of life, the domination of the god Money (e.g., in
Carlyle’s 1843 “Mammon,” a personification of the materialistic spirit of the 19th
century), calculative rationality, profit, price, and the law of the market. These ills
had crowded out qualitative values, creating the death of imagination and romance
and poisoning social life by money and the air by industrial smoke. In his 1854
Hard Times, Charles Dickens’s romantic faith in sensibilities and affections defied
the harsh worldview of utilitarianism, political economy, laissez faire, and the cun-
ning algebra of mercantile quantification (Löwy 1987).
Against a quantified, industrialized, capitalistic world, an alternative, the emerg-
ing romantic worldview, represented a great turn to emotionality. It manifested
new interest in the remote, the primitive, the savage, the wild of nature, infused
with a bitter sense of melancholy and alienation from an organic wholeness based
on family and community ties. Enlightenment rationalism and its cold, calculative
rationality were thus challenged by the other side of human reason, which vener-
ated totality, connection, interdependence, emotion, and the freedom to love. This
alternative mentality appreciated the flow of life and the individuality of the cre-
ative individual, and rejected the hegemony of logical-analytic reason. Confident
that all separation could be overcome, romanticists promoted a gestalt-synthetic
mode of thought (Löwy 1987; McGilchrist 2010:330–51).

Alienation of bourgeois, Christian culture from passionate

human nature
Marx’s future father-in-law, Auguste Cornu, baron of Westphalia, had inspired the
youthful Marx’s enthusiasm for the Romantic School, and introduced him to Vol-
taire, Racine, Homer, and Shakespeare. Marx’s few romantic plays and romantic
poetry (mainly written in 1836–7, published in Wessell 1979:225–84), stressed
the importance of the passions in human nature. He asserted that “a human being
as an objective sensuous being is therefore a suffering being, and because we feel
our suffering (Lieden), we are passionate [Leidenschaftliches] beings. . . .8 Pas-
sion is our essential power vigorously striving to attain its object” (Marx [1932]
1974:390).
In romanticism, Marx and Engels found a foundation for further developing the
notion of alienation. Only a year after the publication of Carlyle’s (1843) Past and
Present, their ideas concerning alienation aligned with the morality of romantic
humanism. They embraced the romanticists’ notion that bourgeois, Christian cul-
ture alienated individuals from their sensuous, human nature.
Marx and Engels shared in the German intellectuals’ rediscovery of physical
pleasures, seeing the alienated individual as one whose denial of the reality of
the material world, and from the life of the species, was very much an alien-
ation from sexuality. Humans’ alienation from themselves was tantamount to their
 Hegel and Feuerbach to Marx and Engels 39
self-destruction and self-mutilation. Christianity wanted to free individuals from
the domination of the flesh, seeing the flesh, and its desires, as alien to us. In
Christianity, human nature existed only as an external, alien force, a heteronomy,
and “an inverted world-consciousness” (ein verkehrt es Welt bewusstein) (Marx
[1843b] 1972).9 In The Holy Family, Marx and Engels (1845) considered alien-
ation and the passions in the context of Christianity, particularly Calvinism. Here,
Marx and Engels followed romanticists’ view that the Christian religion, with
its veneration of asceticism, masochism, suffering, and admiration of the virgin
‘mother of God’, is a religious alienation from sexuality, alienating individuals
from the very life of the species.
At this early stage of their intellectual development, Marx’s and Engels’s ([1932]
1964:135) definition of communism did not refer to class struggle. It rather signi-
fied the “complete return of man to himself as a social . . . being––a return become
conscious, and accomplished within the entire wealth of previous development.”
Communism, for Marx and Engels,

constituted at the time the overcoming of all alienation. The sexual overtones
of ‘alienation’ persisted as they tended to generalize the concept to signify
the subjective state that accompanies any situation of emotional frustration
that is the outcome of man’s own misconceived social behavior and social
arrangements.
(Feuer 1969a:79)

The estrangement of labor in capitalistic production

Besides rebelling against the repression of human sensual nature, Marx embraced
romanticists’ and early sociologists’ harsh evaluation of industrial workers’ plight.
Compelled to follow the movements of the machine, work and workers were dehu-
manized. Whereas the romanticists hoped to restore a largely imaginary past, Marx
saw the restoration of the whole man – beyond fragmentation, division, and alien-
ation, in a future Golden Age, in which the capitalistic world order is replaced by
a communist social order that values the social and natural qualities of human life.
Rousseau’s appreciation of sociohistorical forces’ influence on the development
of human nature, and insights from Feuerbach and Schiller, inspired Marx ([1932]
1974) to consider alienation in his Economic and Philosophical Manuscripts of
1844 (hereafter, the Paris Manuscripts). In the important chapter, “Estranged
Labor,” Marx expanded the concept of alienation and applied it to political econ-
omy. Marx saw alienation as the experience of powerlessness, self-estrangement,
and social isolation, resulting from the breakdown of the natural interconnections
between workers and (i) their productive activities, (ii) the products they produce,
and (iii) their relations with fellow co-workers (Ollman 1971:131–53). Factory
labor under capitalism is external to the worker, for it does not belong to his
essential or species being.
Marx thus located the source of human alienation in the labor process (Arbeit)
and grounded philosophy in concrete human activity. The wage laborer must carry
40 Alienation, affect in historical context
out repetitive, stupefying actions and execute plans he has not formed. The worker
objectifies himself in a product that is taken from him. Workers produced palaces,
but lived in hovels; they created beauty, while deforming themselves. By focus-
ing on the inhumanity of factory labor, Marx saw alienation as central to workers’
predicament in capitalist society. He conceptualized dehumanized productive work
as “the core of all alienation” (Schaar 1961:264), and alienated labor colored the
life space of the individual in profound and disturbing ways.
Romanticists sought meaning in history, and imagined earlier times when
craftsmanship was honored and humans were not alienated from their essential
nature. In the Communist Manifesto, Marx and Engels dismissed romantic dreams
of a return to precapitalist modes of production as reactionary. Capitalism, they
acknowledged, was an advance over the exploitative nature of feudalism and other
earlier kinds of economic production. While even more exploitative, capitalism
enabled the development of class struggle on the part of the oppressed.
Romanticists sought to overcome bourgeois–Christian alienation from nature by
plunging into sensual and aesthetic experience. Marx located the problem not in
human mortality and alienation from the flesh, but in industrial capitalist society’s
socioeconomic order. In capitalism, the products of human labor become alien to
the producers, and private property subverts and estranges individual workers from
their own human nature. Marx saw Herrschaft as domination by private property,
and Knechtschaft as the bondage of alienated labor (entäusserten Arbeit).
Marx’s idea of ‘bondage’ was thus very different from Paul’s, Luther’s, and
Hegel’s, but his theory of class struggle retains their apocalyptic rhetorical struc-
ture (see Rotstein 1982). In industrial capitalism, there is first an antithesis of capi-
tal and labor, wherein the laborer is alienated from the commodities he produces;
the laborer is emptied out, devalued, experiencing nothingness and non-being (ihr
eignes Nichtsein) (Marx [1939] 1973:454). In the second stage, the proletariat,
while still in a subordinate position, organizes and develops a revolutionary bold-
ness; it moves from being a class in-itself to a class for-itself, and acts upon its
newfound revolutionary class consciousness. In stage three, the proletarian revo-
lution succeeds on a global level, and the proletariat becomes the ruling class;
victorious proletarians now live in a community of free and equal individuals.
In step four, the powerless have gained all power, private property is negated,
social classes dissolve, the state withers, the advent of communism brings about
the overturning of all earlier relations of economic production, and there is a total
salvation of humanity.

Marx and Engels abandon the concept of alienation

In an 1837 letter to his father, Marx renounced his romantic poetry and romanti-
cism in general (Wessell 1979:10), yet romanticism continued to influence his
scholarly writings beyond that pronouncement. Marx’s vision of a communist
utopia was not unlike the romanticists’ fantasies of primitive, ancient, or medieval
experiences of communal wholeness. Many scholars have recognized continu-
ities of Marx and romanticism (M. Levin 1974; Löwy 1987; Löwy and Sayre
 Hegel and Feuerbach to Marx and Engels 41
2002:88–116). Marx’s vision had incorporated “the romantic revolt against a world
which turns everything into a commodity and degrades man to the status of an
object” (E. Fischer 1970a:15). The young Marx’s thinking was a kind of “romantic
socialism,” which waxed nostalgic and bemoaned the loss of community, family,
and guild under competitive, industrial capitalism (Habermas 1990:15).
Marx’s interest in alienation quickly waned after his Paris Manuscripts. With his
newfound view that only class consciousness mattered, the concept disappeared
from his work entirely. In their Communist Manifesto, Marx and Engels ([1848a]
1955:37) pronounced the literati’s musings on money “philosophical nonsense,”
and derisively noted that it was written under the heading, “Alienation of Human-
ity.”10 Marx had endeavored to elevate his work from philosophy to science, and
he dismissed the concept of alienation as a ‘myth of origins’ presupposing the
simple unity of an originary human essence (Althusser and Balibar 1968; see also
Gouldner 1980). Hook ([1936] 1994:5) contended that the concept of alienation in
the early Marx was “originally and primarily religious,” and therefore played no
role in Marx’s mature work, noting that, even in the 1848 Communist Manifesto,
Marx “pokes fun at those socialists who make great play with the obscure term
‘alienation’.”
Yet, orthodox Marxists of the Old Left were mistaken in seeing Marx’s later
work as purely scientific, and Marxist scholars such as Garaudy (1967) have
acknowledged that Marxism does not present a value-free and purely scientific
system of knowledge; it rather presents a vision of human history that provided
for the psychic life of modern individuals many of the functions that were once
fulfilled by mythic and religious beliefs and activities.11
Romanticists pursued a strategy of alienation, in which alienation from culture
and society was a positive event, tantamount to “a therapy in which consciousness
heals itself by a complex act of invention” (Bloom 1971:17, 324). Hegel simi-
larly saw alienation as painful, but ultimately positive, because self-estrangement
enabled the development of the mind and the evolution of society. While Hegel
was thus an anti-romantic (Reid 2014), he and the romanticists both saw a positive
side of alienation. This was not the case with Marx.
Although Marx had abandoned the concept of alienation in his later works,
important themes of alienation, and of de-alienation, persisted in his vision of
communism and his concept of the victorious proletariat. The first generation of
romantics had sought emancipation from the weight of oppressive and obsolete
social institutions and social practices, as Schelling attacked dogmatism, Fichte
advocated self-determination, and the Jena Romanticists sought liberation of their
natural passions. Marx ([1843a] 1970:8) similarly espoused a critical philoso-
phy intended to expose “mystical consciousness” and to put “the searing knife of
criticism” to the existing institutional order. Marx sought to overcome reification,
whereby society appears external and coercive, rather than humanly constructed
and responsive to its members’ actions. Marx’s call to fight for a communist soci-
ety had been anticipated by earlier romanticists, as Fichte ([1797] 1889:218) had
called for “the universal commonwealth,” Schleiermacher ([1800] 1957:26) for a
“community of free spiritual beings,” and Thoreau ([1849] 1991:245) had sought
42 Alienation, affect in historical context
a “perfect and glorious state.” Marx had embedded abstract philosophical notions
within his ‘scientific’ and ‘materialistic’ socioeconomic concepts and categories,
but his ‘proletariat’ was a Promethean, heroic force that would rescue humanity
from its own alienation. This is a thoroughly romantic vision, in which, as Novalis
wrote in his Astralis poem, “The world becomes a dream, and dream becomes
a world.”

Assessing Marx: from dialectical materialism to prophetic vision

Marx did not see himself as a Marxist. Following the Gnostics, Paul, Luther,
and Hegel, Marxists viewed the world as bearing an overwhelming burden of
domination and oppression; they offered to the oppressed a vision of a social
world without capitalistic exploitation, repression, or alienation. Marx assumed
“a dialectical-material process of nature which in its course leads from the alien-
ation of private property and belief in God, to the freedom of a fully human exis-
tence” (Voegelin 1968:11). Alienation (Entäusserung) gives way to the positive
expression of life (Lebensentäusserung), so that the alienation of humanity from its
potential species being (Wesensentäusserung) ultimately leads to the full expres-
sion of humanity’s essential nature (Wesensäusserung).
Our analysis of alienation in Rousseau, Schiller, Hegel, Feuerbach, Marx, and
Engels might tempt us to infer that alienation had become an important topic in
the 18th, 19th, and early 20th centuries. But during this period, Ferguson’s (1767)
and Adam Smith’s (1776) ideas about workers’ alienation were hardly noticed,
and Marx’s analysis of alienation had slight impact. Most of Marx’s Paris Manu-
scripts and Marx’s and Engels’s The German Ideology published only in 1932, and
were translated into French and English at least 15 years later.12 Hegel’s notions
of alienation similarly lacked impact, as idealist scholars have long ignored his
Phenomenology and focused instead on his later works.13
In his early work, Marx had posed an important question: “Why is man alien-
ated?” Marx sought the answer in the historical development of the division of
labor, private property, and capital. Capitalism and the Industrial Revolution, Marx
believed, had destroyed the historical relationships between craftsmen and the
goods they produce; assembly-line work reduced laborers to cogs in machines.
Under these conditions, labor was not creative but was rather forced, coerced,
lacking self-direction, and dehumanized. The essential human quality, of labor,
was externalized and made alien to the worker.
Finally, we must ask if Marx’s notion of a perfect communist utopia as the
cumulating stage of human and social development is consistent with the romantic
worldview. Following the advent of communism, Marx believed, there will be
an abolition of private property and an end to human self-alienation. Moreover,
following this great event, humans’ natural existence will become their social
existence, for nature has become humanized. This statement of a humanistic natu-
ralism developing into a future state which solves the riddle of history is one we
have seen before. It is an end that is a return to the beginning, but at a higher level,
for the tragic fragmentation of humanity has been replaced by the experience of
 Hegel and Feuerbach to Marx and Engels 43
wholeness, in relations with others and with a nature “which is no longer dead
and alien but has been resurrected and has assumed a companionable, because a
human, form” (Abrams 1973:326). Coleridge (1818), 25 years earlier, had argued
that art “is the mediatress between, and reconciler of, nature and man, . . . the union
and reconciler of that which is nature with that which is exclusively human.” The
difference between Coleridge and Marx is that the integrative role that Coleridge –
together with Schiller, Schelling, Wordsworth, and many other romanticists – had
assigned to the imaginative work of the artist, Marx had expanded “to include all
the work of men’s hands – provided, that is, that this work is performed in the
social ambience of free communal enterprise” (Abrams 1973:316). Thus, Marx’s
communistic utopia would, ultimately, comprise a work of art.

Notes
1 Feuerlicht (1978:214) presents an excellent etymology of these and closely related
German terms.
2 The distinction between the ‘I’ and the ‘me’ was developed in Hegel’s (1807) phenom-
enology of self-consciousness (see Russon 1997), and in process philosophy, and was
given a sociological interpretation by George Herbert Mead ([1934] 1962:135–220).
3 More specifically, Hegel saw in Friedrich Schlegel an affront to bourgeois decency, for
he viewed Schlegel as a seducer and a poser, who mastered his public with his particular
selfhood (Ichkeit), which had elevated itself to become an aloof, dominating subjectivity
that sees the world from a peak (Spitze) or summit (Gipfel), sophistically pretending
absolute knowledge or “worldly wisdom” (Weltweisheit), while manipulating desired
objects in the world, and doing so without respect to established norms, right, and
duties.
4 Sloterdijk (1987:26), in his critique of religious illusions, stated this idea perfectly, cit-
ing Genesis 1:27: “And God created man according to His image, in the image of God
created He him.” “Without doubt,” Sloterdijk adds, “this ‘image’ relation can also be
interpreted the other way around. From then on it is no mystery where the images come
from; humans and their experiences are the material from which the official dreams
about ‘God’ are made. The religious eye projects earthly images into heaven.” And
to this Cutler (2005:173) adds a cynical view of the God-concept “as simply another
chaos-controlling illusion to make sense of a confusing world.”
5 Smith accused Ferguson of plagiarizing his ideas about occupational specialization and
the division of labor, a priority dispute that remains unresolved (see, e.g., Brewer 1986).
There approaches were different, however, for Smith was focused on the positive effects
of specialization on economic development, whereas Ferguson focused on workers’
‘alienation’ and other pathologies of simple and repetitive work tasks.
6 Marx, living in the 19th century, was writing about a more developed and malignant
source of alienation, as the modern industrial system of Ferguson’s time was far less
developed and workers retained some level of control over their work (Hill 2007:355–6).
7 Harold Mah (1986) argues that the young Marx, immersed in “passionate Romanti-
cism,” was slow to develop a radical agenda, and that it is difficult to draw connection
between his early romanticism and his later revolutionary theorizing. Mah concludes
that Marx’s romanticism had no discernible effect on his later radical thinking. How-
ever, Marx was from early on well aware of, and intellectually involved in, romanticism
and its critique of modern, industrialized, capitalistic society. Marx’s position that social
change comes about through the conflict of contradictory tendencies, while associated
with Hegel, was also developed by the romanticists Müller and Schleiermacher, and
was part of the heritage of German romanticism. The revolutionary romanticists had
44 Alienation, affect in historical context
seen how the capitalist present could mediate between aspects of the precapitalist past
and the socialistic future (Peckham 1976:7). The more conservative romanticists, in
contrast, were harsh critics of the advance of capitalism as undermining the agrarian
feudal order which they saw as superior (M. Levin 1974:408n1, 411).
8 It is useful to distinguish between passions and emotions, for their meanings differ. The
term passion derives from the Latin pati, meaning to suffer or to undergo. A passion can
be seen as a precursor to an emotion. The key difference is that passions are passive in
nature, for the experience of a passion is always caused by an object or situation external
to, yet acting upon, the individual, whereas emotions are first experienced as internal
to the mind, but are both stimulated by and responsive to ongoing social interactions
(as made clear by Pahl’s analysis of Hegel’s Phenomenology), an insight that totally
escaped Marx’s own reading of Hegel. Thus, a passion is suffered, but an emotion is
produced by the socially embedded subject. Marx’s statement of passions as suffered
yet energizing and directing is quite correct, and was indeed insightful.
9 Marx and Engels ([1845] 1956:32) described the German idealistic philosophers,
including Hegel, as estranged from reality insofar as they repressed their natural sexual
senses of “love” and “passion,” and endeavored to spiritualize its reality. They wrote
that these idealists had used linguistic tricks to translate love into “a theological thing,”
a being “separated from and as such endowed with independent being. By this simple
process, by changing the predicate into the subject, all the attributes and manifesta-
tions of human nature can be critically transformed into their opposite[s]” (Marx and
Engels [1845] 1956:32). Love, they argued, is un-Critical and un-Christian, and sexual
repression leads to a distortion of thought and impairs the sense of reality (Ollman
1971:240–1).
10 Robert Tucker (1958:176) dubiously claims that in Marx’s mature works, “alienation
remains his central theme, but it has gone underground in his image of society,” and
that Marx had merely replaced “alienated labor” with “wage labor.” Sidney Hook noted
that after the Manuscripts of 1844 Marx’s only explicit reference to the concept, alien-
ation, were derisive. Hook ([1936] 1994:5) wrote: “Aside from the specific sociological
doctrine of ‘the fetishism of commodities’ . . . the central notion of ‘self-alienation’ is
foreign to the historical, naturalistic, humanism of Marx.”
11 Howard Parsons (1964:70) likened Marx’s critique of capitalism to the prophesying of
the holy men of the world’s religions: “Like the biblical prophets, Marx’s critique of
religion and other forms of alienation is not primarily impelled by metaphysical or even
scientific purposes. It is humanistic and prophetic.”
12 When this work appeared in Germany, in 1932, it was reviewed, but with the advent of
the Third Reich, open discussion of Marx had become impossible, and those sympa-
thetic to Marx’s views remained silent or left Germany. Translations of the Manuscripts
first became available in French by Rubel in 1947 and in English by Bottomore in 1956.
These translations, however, did not adequately distinguish between Entäusserung and
Entfremdung, and referred to both as ‘alienation’.
13 As Arthur (1986:159n3) points out, in his supplement to his Jubilee edition of Hegel’s
([1807a] 1952) work, Glockner (1935–9) did not even list Entäusserung or Entfremdung
in the Hegel-Lexikon of 1935–9 (nor in its 1957 edition). Hoffmeister also excludes
these terms in his edition of the Phänemenologie des Geistes. A. V. Miller, in his transla-
tion of Hoffmeister’s German version of Hegel ([1807a] 1952), excluded both alienation
and estrangement from his index to Hegel (Hegel 1807c).
4 Alienation and affect in the late
19th and the 20th centuries

The scientific enterprise, including the scientific study of the human mind, devel-
oped throughout the Renaissance and the Enlightenment and accelerated in the
modern age. In opposition to this triumph of scientific reasoning and the develop-
ment of modern, industrial civilization, the counter-philosophy of romanticism
portrayed the modern world’s scientific and mathematical orientation as highly
alienating. Romanticists denied the existence of a rational, objective order, a
putative rerum natura, from which all knowledge and morality originated, and
denounced the “suppression of individuality and irrational and unconscious forces
in men” (Berlin [1976] 2000:54; see also Berlin 1999).
While the romanticist did not seriously engage in physics, chemistry, and biol-
ogy, they did contribute to the emerging social sciences. The romantic perspective
influenced 19th- and early-20th-century founders of sociology, including Tönnies,
Simmel, and Weber. Although modernization and the detailed division of labor
had raised productivity and created wealth, these theorists argued that many pro-
cesses of modern society negatively impacted individuals’ quality of life. Their
insights provided the concept of alienation a place in critical social science. Tön-
nies (1887), for example, advanced a penetrating analysis of how the advent of
individualistic, competitive Gesellschaft society promotes the loss of community,
the folk-Gemeinschaft, while Simmel and Weber described alienation’s manifesta-
tions in the 20th century.

Simmel
Georg Simmel was both a sociological theorist and a romantic critic of modern,
urban life. His theory of alienation, first presented in The Philosophy of Money
(Simmel [1900] 2003:429–512), partly coincides with Marx’s, but is conceptu-
ally more highly developed and deserves careful attention. Like Marx, Simmel
held that individuals in modern, industrialized, and urbanized societies are alien-
ated from their work, from the objects produced through their work, from each
other, and from their selves. Modern society and culture promote anonymity and
degrade self-identity by ‘dispersing’, or ‘fragmenting’, the individual into a cluster
of separate, specialized roles. Three interdependent levels of alienation result and
are expressed in the growing separation between subject and object, means and
ends, and emotion and reason.
46 Alienation, affect in historical context
Subject and object
The impoverishment of personal life in the modern world, a key source of alien-
ation, follows from the modern separation between objective and subjective con-
ditions of work (Simmel [1900] 2003:64–5, 453–69). The increasingly detailed
division of labor promotes the glorification of the objective mind and leaves little
room for the harmonious growth of one’s total personality and character; the
subjective mind retreats, is devalued, and risks becoming selfish and egotistical
(Capetillo-Ponce 2004). “Where the division of labor prevails,” Simmel ([1900]
2003:455) asserted, “the person can no longer find himself expressed in his work;
its form becomes dissimilar to the subjective mind and appears only as a wholly
specialized part of our being that is indifferent to the total unity of man.”
The lifestyles of modern, urban communities, which depend upon the rela-
tionship between objectified culture and the individual’s capacity to subjectively
experience this culture, also promote alienation. Man-made objects become exis-
tentially meaningful and valuable when an individual can project his or her self
onto the object, rendering object and subject congruent. Because the individual can
only incorporate a diminishing number of manufactured objects, which prolifer-
ate and diversify in modern society, the individual confronts a complex, objective
culture perceived to be remote and inaccessible (Arditi 1996:93).

Means and ends

Another source of alienation in the modern world is the disruption between goals
(or ends) and the means used to attain them (Simmel [1900] 2003:204–21, 228–34).
In particular, individuals in modern society have lost sight of ultimate ends, and
increasingly regard the means to ends as ends in themselves. Animals and “uncul-
tured” humans can reach goals through acts of will, in “a straightforward line . . .
by simply reaching out or by using a small number of simple devices; the order of
means and ends is easily observed” (Simmel [1907] 1986:3). Individuals in mod-
ern society, however, find it more difficult to understand the relationship between
goals and the means employed to attain them. Due to bureaucracy, technology, and
other aspects of modernity, the path to goal attainment has “become long and dif-
ficult, [and] filled with stops and curves.” The “simple triad of desire–means–end”
is degraded by the “increasing multiplicity and complexity of higher life” (Simmel
[1907] 1986:3). In the modern money economy, goal-oriented series of actions
have lengthened and often require intermediate steps; implementing appropriate
means require nearly endless preparation. The satisfaction of achieving ends lies
beyond the moment, even beyond the horizon of the individual. Most importantly,
means to ends are no longer pursued only to meet basic survival needs but have
become worthwhile goals in and of themselves.
Simmel’s (1900) central example is money, which once was pursued as a means
to acquire valuable things needed for survival, but is increasingly sought as an
end in itself. This transformation of means into ends is at the heart of modern
 The late 19th and the 20th centuries 47
humanity’s alienation. The universalization of monetary transactions in the spheres
of exchange and circulation destroys the perceived value of ultimate ends and
contributes to the heightened centrality of means and techniques. Objects are expe-
rienced as distant if one’s access to them is mediated by money; money enmeshes
us in a veritable labyrinth of means, renders relations between things abstract,
and reduces things to common values. The resulting discontinuity of experience
in the money-based economy, particularly in urban areas, is a principal source
of alienation (Frisby 2011:89). Economic striving, without aim or end, deprives
individuals of final goals, rules, and norms, and leads only to an unbounded,
insatiable willing (Simmel 1907; see also Schopenhauer 1818; Durkheim [1897]
1960:255–6). Simmel argued that this transformed understanding of means and
ends has undermined life’s meaningfulness.

Emotion and reason

Simmel distinguished sharply between emotion and reason; he argued that non-
rational, emotional values are tied more closely to ends than to means. As individu-
als’ focus has shifted from ends to means in modern society, a corresponding shift
in mentality from emotion to reason has also occurred. Simmel (1900) identified
emotions as a topic of sociological inquiry. He saw emotions as (i) causes of social
interactions (“primary emotions”), or (ii) as results, or psychical effects, of expe-
rienced interactions (“secondary emotions”).1 Emotions are thus produced in the
interplay between the individual and social structures, and the subject’s interpreta-
tive schemata of these sociorelational conditions.
As goods are bought, sold, or traded according to objective, calculative crite-
ria, Simmel proposed, they lose their emotional value. In modernity, economic
behavior contributes to the hegemony of rational, quantitative reasoning. This
reasoning influences all areas of life, suppresses subjective, affect-laden decisions
and judgments, and eclipses the relatively stable and emotion-laden structuration
of pre-money-based society.

Transcending alienation through artistic creativity

Simmel saw the modern, urban situation as alienating, and incompatible with liv-
ing as a total personality (Fuchs 1991:4). Under this condition, human relations
involve only part of the self, so that individuals are leveled, suffocated, even swal-
lowed up in social and technical mechanisms and institutions; in the process, they
become alienated from their natural creativity and sociality and reduced to an
anonymous existence.
While Simmel saw the modern individual described by Enlightenment philoso-
phers as alienated on many levels, he recognized a potential transcending of this
alienation in the romantic vision of the individual. In opposition to the ‘pale’ and
‘fleshless’ rationalist concept of individualism, the romanticists conceptualized the
individual as an idealized, artistic genius who rescues the world from alienation
48 Alienation, affect in historical context
(Walzel 1932; Currie 1974:9). As described by Isaiah Berlin ([1976] 2000:330),
the romantic individualist believes in

self abandonment to spontaneous feelings and passion, hatred of rules, and a

desire for unbridled self-expression and self-assertion on the part of the artist,
whether in life or in the creation of his works – the conception of the poet, the
thinker, as a superior being, subject to agonies not known to the common run
of men, seeking to realize himself in some unique, violent, unheard-of fashion,
obedient to his own passion and will alone.

Only individual subjectivity can mitigate the tragedy of culture, and Simmel imag-
ined that harmony of subject and object could be attained through artistic cre-
ativity. While the modern individual is subjected to occupational specialization
and fragmentation of the self and is alienated, the romantic artist can transcend
alienation and live as an integrated, total self. Despite widespread alienation in
modern life, an individual can “secure an island of subjectivity, a secret, closed off
sphere of privacy” in the world of aesthetics (Simmel [1900] 2003:469). Inherent
ecstasy is achievable through immersion in producing a work of art, wherein the
lost accord between subject and object is recovered. Through analysis of “social
forms,” Simmel found that subject–object unity was also attainable within the
social and political arenas. Simmel’s student, Salz, noted that “whoever speaks
of forms moves in the field of aesthetics. Society, in the last analysis, is a work of
art” (cited in Frisby 2003:16). Ultimately, however, the exchange and circulation
of produced art as commodities penetrate even the art world proper (Poggi 1993);
immersion in creative and productive activities cannot guarantee transcendence of
alienation. Happiness attained in artistic creativity, while heroic as gesture, does
not last; artistic creations quickly become alien to their creators and objectified as
they acquire monetary value and are sold.

Weber

The alienating conditions of the modern world

Like Simmel, Max Weber recognized that modern society enhanced economic
productivity and the efficient administration of social life. But these advances were
accompanied by a decline in personally meaningful activity. Weber was highly
critical of the 18th-century Enlightenment, which he believed had created an alien-
ating worldview, wherein subject and object, mind and matter, emotion and rea-
son, are separated (Koch 2006:ix). Weber accepted Kant’s (1781a) epistemology,
but rejected his ethical system of moral philosophy. Kant saw reason harnessing
the emotions, passions, and the impulsive side of life and leading to a more just,
civilized, and rational sociomoral order. Whereas Kant (1790) saw values arising
from the exercise of pure reason, Weber recognized that values rather emerge
in a social context and possess the subjective elements of freely willed choices.
Like Simmel, Weber was influenced by romanticism, which saw emotion and the
 The late 19th and the 20th centuries 49
creative, spontaneous expression of ideas and social relations as the essential fea-
ture and purpose of human nature. Weber embraced the romanticists’ commitment
to set emotion and creative freedom against cold and impersonal bureaucratic and
political organization (Koch 2006:28–33). Rationality’s relentless expansion into
the social world manifested as an oppressive, bureaucratic, orderly society which
undermined human individuality’s spontaneous, creative, and emotional charac-
ter; it stifled the freedom he saw as an ontological necessity and made alienation
inescapable.
Whereas Marx believed the advent of a communist utopia could counteract
alienation, and Nietzsche optimistically imagined the coming of the Übermensch,
Weber, a pessimist, offered no way out. He saw that the alienating consequences of
modernity follow from insurmountable epistemological, ontological, and societal
conditions. Value commitments are based on emotion, but the increasing rational-
ization of everyday life erodes the development of personal individuality, resulting
in “the increasing alienation of ourselves within the structures of the institutional
order” (Koch 2006:33).
Weber rarely used the term ‘alienation’, but the concept permeates his many
research areas and his worldview. His comparative study of major religions (Weber
1904–5, 1915a, 1916, 1917–19) involved exploration of the intersection of reason,
emotion, and human nature. While the world can seem a bewildering and irratio-
nal place, religions offered rational schemes that provided believers a coherent
orientation. The quest for meaning is a unique human property that can overcome
the experience that life is ‘senseless’. For Weber, the primary function of religions
of salvation is to enable individuals to interpret their lives, and the cosmos, in
a meaningful way. In the Middle Ages, the search for spiritual meaning led to
other-worldly mysticism and rejection of involvement with the existing world.
Beginning in the Renaissance, and reaching full expression in the modern world,
an opposite orientation, this-worldly asceticism, crystallized in the Protestant ethic
(Weber 1904–5). This disenchantment signifies a loss of the sense that we are con-
fronted by inexplicable phenomena, that the world is haunted by tabooistic magic,
ghosts, witches, angels, demons, and mercurial agents. Recourse to magical means
to master or implore the spirits was largely abandoned (Weber [1927] 1950:265;
see also Thomas 1971). Both paths led to an irreversible disenchantment of the
world (Entzauberung). In the case of modernity, the natural sciences, with their
scientific explanations of life and the cosmos, reinforced the sense of meaningless-
ness and cultural estrangement associated with the decline of religion.
Religious understanding originally springs from charismatic leaders’ putatively
supernatural revelations, which originate in the non-rational, affect-laden elements
of their personalities. As charismatic revelations become ossified into official doc-
trines, religious intuition gives way to ritual and bureaucracy, so that organized
religions later oppose the sources from which they sprang. Religions come to be
ruled by inflexible bureaucracies and work to “bring impulsive emotions under
control”; these processes of rationalization “split the primitive, united image of the
world into rational cognition and mystical experience” (Weber [1915c] 1972:282;
Koch 2006:120). While the science of the Middle Ages was largely based on
50 Alienation, affect in historical context
‘magic’, the modern individual was now confronted by the hard facts of scientific
knowledge; since the 17th century these have called into question the existence
of “mysterious incalculable forces” (Weber [1919] 1972:139; see also Schneider
1993). Weber saw humans as desiring and needing meaning or inner coherence and
certainty, but finding this desire largely unattainable with the erosion of metaphysi-
cal certainty. The result was a Western crisis of meaninglessness that originated in
the deterioration of religious belief and has been aggravated by “the objectifying
environment of capitalism, bureaucracy and science” (Chowers 1995:124).

Instrumental and substantive rationality

Reasoning means the exercise of analytic thought in a logical, exact, and orderly
way; this includes the powers of inference, seeing patterns in data, and under-
standing single truths. In a narrow sense, rationality is the quality or state of open-
ness to reason and to valid arguments; one’s choices, decisions, goals, values, and
beliefs are all subjected to reasoned scrutiny (Sen 1983). Rationality is a domi-
nant theme in Weber’s writings on economics, politics, and religion. Weber also
focused on the process of rationalization, whose historical development involved
two main phases. First, traditional societies’ belief systems shifted emphasis from
supernatural, religious, and magical to science and precise calculation using math-
ematics and measurement instruments (hence, instrumental rationality). Second,
bureaucratic organizations emerged, involving impersonal organizational-level
decision-making, universally applicable rules, technocratic skills, and means–ends
reasoning. Reflecting on the hegemony of instrumental rationality, Weber ([1921]
1978:506) observed, “As intellectualism suppresses belief in magic, the world’s
processes lose their magical significance, and henceforth simply ‘are’ and ‘happen’
but no longer signify anything.”
According to Weber ([1921] 1978:85–6), substantive or value rationality
involves decision-making and actions that acquire meaning and validity within
the context of affect-laden belief and value systems; it is not based upon formal
rules, expediency, or common-sense premises. Weber defined substantive rational-
ity as uniquely involving “ultimate” values, or ultimate ends, which may or may
not be economic in nature. Value rationality means one’s actions uphold one’s core
beliefs. It principally emphasizes choosing ultimate ends; once chosen, these con-
strain one’s choice of means. In this sense, substantive rationality differs radically
from instrumental rationality, whose principal focus is choosing means to ends,
using criteria of efficiency and expediency.
Substantive, or value, rationality cannot be demonstrated by science, but is
essential to the personality; it enables interpretation of reality according to a set
of values, and brings ethics into confrontations with the social order. Substantive
rationality is the necessary “link with the emotional part of human personality,” for
“emotion is essential to the world of human beings. . . . To the extent that such a
limitation comes from the social environment, it can be asserted as a social cause
of alienation” (Koch 2006:140). All forms of rationality enable our understand-
ing of the social world, but in modernity the necessary balance has been upset
 The late 19th and the 20th centuries 51
by institutions’ and corporate actors’ prioritization of formal and instrumental
rationality. Only by restoring balance among the several kinds of rationality2 can
individuals embrace substantive values and escape the ‘iron cage’ (Stahlhartes
Gehäuse) that entraps, alienates, and diminishes emotional life.
A growing demand that the world be subject to a significant and meaningful
order conflicts with the realities of modernity and its institutional order, which
engenders various kinds of alienation, including “the intellectual’s flight from the
world.” This flight, a kind of cultural estrangement, “may be more contemplative,
or more actively ascetic; it may primarily seek individual salvation or collective
revolutionary transformation of the world in the direction of a more ethical status”
(Weber [1921] 1978:506). Weber ([1915b] 1972:357) wrote, “culture’s every step
forward seems condemned to lead to an ever more devastating senselessness.”
Bureaucracy is a human analogue to the machine, striving toward its own techni-
cal, even “mechanized,” perfection. Pessimistic about the future, Weber predicted
that a growing influence of soulless bureaucracies and petrified social institutions
would diminish individual freedom and contribute to individuals’ sense of power-
lessness and meaninglessness.

Alienation, socialism, the New Left, and the counterculture

[S]ome New Left fellow-travelers, labouring to escape the now abusive epithet
‘Stalinist’ began to contend that the Economic and Philosophical Manuscripts of
1944 were the true foundation documents of Marxist philosophy; and, hence, that
its key word was not ‘dialectics’ but ‘alienation’.
– Antony Flew (1991:272)

The Bolshevik’s October 1917 revolution and the later creation of the Soviet
empire, the embrace of socialism in third-world anti-colonial movements, and the
emergence of a Communist Left in Western democracies, all stimulated renewed
interest in Marx and Marxism (Dunayevskaya 1965; Wesson 1976; Kołakowski
1978a–c). Following this revolution, a contest between ‘Eastern’ socialism and
‘Western’ capitalism gradually developed into the Cold War. The topic of alien-
ation was barely mentioned within the Old Left’s debates concerning Hegelianism
and whether socialism should be founded on philosophy or empirical science. In
Hook’s ([1936] 1994:115, 248, 250, 291) pioneering study of Marx’s intellectual
development, From Hegel to Marx, the word ‘alienation’ was mentioned, in pass-
ing, on just four pages. The major concern of the Old Left of the 1930s was the
validity of historical materialism.
With the advent of the New Left in the late 1950s–early 1960s (Savio, Walker
and Dunayevskaya 1965; Horowitz 1966, 1970; Feuer 1969b), the topic of alien-
ation gained importance. Its rise and fall in the social sciences is illustrated in Fig-
ure 4.1, which shows, annually from 1939 to 2015, the number of scholarly works
using words for ‘alienation’ or ‘estrangement’ in the title or abstract, relative to the
volume of social-scientific publications (roughly indicated by publications using
keywords for ‘social’ or ‘society’). Figure 4.1 shows that interest in alienation
52 Alienation, affect in historical context

Ratios

.18 1969

.15
The Paris and Prague Springs Lee’s “obituary” for alienation

.12

.09

.06
Seeman’s 1959 “varieties
of alienation” article
.03

0
1940 1950 1960 1970 1980 1990 2000 2010 2015
Year

Figure 4.1 Social-scientific interest in alienation, 1939–2015: Ratios of annual number

of ProQuest Sociological Abstracts’ title or abstract entries containing words
for alienation or estrangement, as a ratio of the annual number of scholarly
journal articles including words for society or social (a proxy measure of social-
scientific publication volume)

increased dramatically from the mid-1950s to the late 1960s, and peaked in 1969.
After 1969, relative (but not absolute) interest in alienation decreased and finally
stabilized in the mid-1980s.
During the four-decade period from the mid-1950s to the mid-1980s, “the cul-
tural intelligentsia brooded on themes of despair, anomie and alienation” (Bell
1976:43; cited in Seeman 1983:171). The concepts of alienation and estrange-
ment rather suddenly gained prominence as the associated societal problems that
had long concerned Western social thinkers continued to fester. The discourse of
Western civilization had become preoccupied with the sinking feeling that modern
society was “suffering from dis-ease,” including rejection of traditional values and
beliefs, fear of technological change and atomic warfare, and emotional feelings of
“anxiety, apprehension, loneliness, normlessness, haplessness, helplessness, [and]
hopelessness” (Rippere 1981:37; see also Pappenheim 1959). Modern man needed
“a guiding light,” a new center of focus in his quest for self-definition. The concept
of alienation provided this focus, but was destined to generate more heat than light
(Rippere 1981:37, 40). Signifying the discontentment of Western civilization, the
concept ‘alienation–estrangement’ referred both to a deeply troubled spirit and to
a sudden, profound disruption of an individual’s ability to function harmoniously
in the social world (Suttie 1935). Alienation was not destined to attain clarity
as a technical, scientific concept but instead became “a canonical name for the
 The late 19th and the 20th centuries 53
comprehensively woeful condition of contemporary humanity” (Rippere 1981:40).
The term “alienation” joined “transition” and “crisis” as a third “semantic bea-
con” of “the widespread belief that there has been a revolutionary change in the
psychological condition of man, reflected in the individual’s feelings of isolation,
homelessness, insecurity, restlessness, [and] anxiety” (Glazer 1947:378).
The turmoil of the 1960s, especially the Vietnam War, triggered a radicalization
of large numbers of American college-age youth, and especially the predominantly
working-class youth compelled to fight it (Shay 1994, 2002; Vellenga and Chris-
tenson 1995). Outrage over Vietnam and injustices of the social order (including
the struggles for women’s liberation and civil rights) merged into a widely shared
sense of alienation from the ‘System’. Lacking a suitably ethical place in a cor-
rupted social world, and experiencing grave “doubts and despair,” left-leaning
intellectuals and students embraced Marxism (Meyer 1961:xxi).
Alienation and Marxism became mutually reinforcing. Understood only as
a “beautifully foggy concept” (Wesson 1976:186), alienation was suddenly the
critical tool of “neo-Marxist methodology.” The New Left rebelled not against
capitalism but against the hostile, alien forces of bureaucracy, hierarchy, and
impersonality. C. Wright Mills (1959:73) described the alienation of progressive
social scientists from the “research bureaucracy” that had “appropriated” social
science research. Controlled by the “managerial class,” who limited theorizing to
the “empty formalities” of Parsonian “grand theory” and who restricted research
to “abstracted empiricism,” this bureaucracy aimed to eliminate “the great social
problems and human issues of our time from inquiry” (Mills [1959] 2000:73).
The bureaucratized ‘establishment’ was perceived as scientific and elitist. By
turning against this system of control, many academics and counterculturalists
turned against science and toward non-scientific knowledge practices, including
the I Ching, sorcery and witchcraft, vision quests, the Tarot, and Tantric Buddhism
(TenHouten and Kaplan 1972). The New Left rejected the Old Left’s appeal for
a ‘scientific socialism’ precisely because it claimed to be (but was not) scientific.
The New Left instead focused on the romantic notion of alienation that had briefly
preoccupied Marx and Engels. Alienation was important for the New Left, not for
its scientific clarity but for its very ambiguity; it expressed the meaninglessness of
settling for an occupational niche in the System.
On the political level, members of the New Left aimed to generate an ethi-
cal, voluntaristic, historical force. It would not result from the impersonal forces
of economic development, but through individuals’ own personal will and direct
action. The new student generation had found, and seized upon, the forgotten texts
of ‘alienation’. In the 1960s, the notion of alienation was, above all, “suited to
express the varied moods of resentment of youth” (Feuer 1969b:508). This decade
witnessed an energized discontent, a nameless malaise, which was unable to find
an appropriate object; this situation called out for “an equally ambiguous word, . . .
devoid of any direct definition, to describe it; such a word is ‘alienation’,” which
came to function as an “emotive symbol for idealistic students in generational
revolt against the System” (Feuer 1969b:508). As a concept, alienation had lost
all precision, and was “invoked rather than used, in order to identify the writer’s
54 Alienation, affect in historical context
underlying moral assumption, namely that society cripples man instead of creating
him; that it forces its members into a network of antisocial circumstances which
must, in the end, dehumanize them” (Zweig 1970:248). As Diggins (1974:64)
observed, “young radicals seized upon Marx’s essentially Hegelian concepts of
‘estrangement’, ‘alienation’ and ‘reification’ in order to turn a predicament of the
human condition into a platform for social emancipation.”
Seeman (1983:171), who was to become the 20th century’s premier alienation
theorist and researcher, notes that the “wave of interest in alienation earned an
almost undeniable mark of validity in the late ’60s when political protest and civil
disorder appeared as . . . [its] world-wide incarnation.” During this time, scholars
linked alienation to mass society (Gerson 1965), to student movements (Feuer
1969b; Horowitz 1970), and to the labor process (Pearlin 1962; Blauner 1964;
Kornhauser 1965; B. Seligman 1965; Seeman 1967). Even at its peak, however,
inquiry into alienation was beset by terminological ambiguities and conceptual
and methodological difficulties. This led some (e.g., Horton 1964; Kon 1967; A.
Lee 1972; R. Collins 1986:247–63) to question the term’s use, either descriptively
or conceptually, and motivated Alfred Lee (1972) to write a virtual “obituary”
for the concept. Lee’s arguments, however, were far from persuasive: he claimed
that (i) because some usages of alienation are philosophical rather than scientific,
all sociological usage of the concept should be abandoned, and (ii) changing the
theorist’s language will change researchers’ motives and goals. But as Keniston
(1965:452) notes, the same definitional problems would repeatedly resurface with
the use of cognate terms such as estrangement, disaffection, dissatisfaction, or
detachment. Many influential social psychologists and sociologists had chosen
to simply ignore the concept of alienation (see Horowitz 1966:230n1). Seeman
(1983) countered that the concept, alienation, possesses continuity in social theory,
and this insight has been borne out by the continued theoretical and empirical
research devoted to this topic.
Do the many conceptualizations of alienation considered above possess an
underlying unity that will make alienation, in general, a useful scientific concept?
Clearly, such a unity does not exist. Following Seeman’s advice, it is more infor-
mative to disaggregate the general concept and phenomenon into its more specific
varieties. The aim of this book, from this point forward, is to link specific varieties
of alienation to specific emotions. To this end, Chapter 5 presents a classification
of the emotions and cross-classifies these emotions with a model of elementary
social relations. We then proceed to identify the primary (or basic), secondary, and
tertiary emotions that form the affective bases of specific varieties of alienation.
Chapters 6–10 will consider the emotions of normlessness, meaninglessness, self-
estrangement, cultural estrangement, and powerlessness.

Notes
1 There is a level of coherence in Simmel’s distinction between primary and secondary
emotions (which differs from the distinction to be introduced in Chapter 5). Simmel’s
primary emotions are described as triggering adaptive reactions, as they distinguish the
 The late 19th and the 20th centuries 55
important and the unimportant, the near and the far, community members and strang-
ers, the sacred and the profane. Simmel recognized that primary emotions can possess
a positive or negative valence, as he distinguished between desire and aversion (Ger-
hards 1986:913). Positive primary emotions create social solidarity; negative primary
emotions are defensive of the individual, group, or community. Secondary emotions, in
contrast, result from “the perception of Ego of a discrepancy between his own structures
of evaluation and specific characteristics of his environment” (Gerhards 1986:910). This
discrepancy gives rise to relatively complex affective states. While Simmel attempted
not typology of secondary emotions, he considered gratitude, shame, love, and jealousy.
2 Weber saw all kinds of rationality as efforts to order the world into meaningful regulari-
ties that can be translated into patterns of social action. In addition to his instrumental–
substantive distinction, Weber identified four other types of rationality: practical, theoretical,
substantive, and formal (see Kalberg 1980:1145).
Part II

Emotions basic to specific

varieties of alienation
Contemporary theory and research
5 Emotions as adaptive
reactions to problems of life

Introduction to Part II
In Part I, we presented historical accounts of the relationship between alienation
and affect. We turn now to contemporary research, particularly to recent advances
in emotions theory, in order to link Seeman’s five varieties of alienation to specific
emotions. We will utilize a partial classification of the emotions (TenHouten 2007,
2013a) that identifies the primary, or basic, emotions, the secondary emotions
(pairs of primary emotions), and the tertiary emotions (triples of primary emotions)
that are associated with each variety of alienation. We show that two varieties,
normlessness and cultural estrangement, each comprise two kinds. Altogether, we
examine seven varieties of alienation. We begin, however, by presenting the con-
cept of primary emotions and we adduce supporting evidence. In emotion theory,
there are multiple, conflicting perspectives and approaches to primary, basic, or
elementary emotions.

The concept of primary emotions

The case for primary emotions

The primary emotions are a perennial topic in emotions theory and research. Many
emotions researchers, particularly those with an ecological, evolutionary, or affec-
tive-neuroscientific orientation (Plutchik 1958, 1962, 1983; Ekman, Sorenson and
Friesen 1969; Izard 1977, 2007; Eibl-Eibesfeldt 1989; Buck 1999; Panksepp 2002,
2011; Izard, Woodburn and Finlon 2010; Lövheim 2012) have adduced impres-
sive evidence indicating that a small subset of emotions are elementary, basic, or
primary. Many of these researchers see primary emotions as natural kinds having
ontological status as causal entities (Shweder 2012). To regard these emotions
as natural kinds simply means that they exist as natural ‘groups’ or ‘orders’, as a
‘real set’, and are not artificially combined together as an exercise of human clas-
sification. Abundant evidence suggests that the most basic emotions have evolved
through natural selection across a wide variety of animal species (Darwin 1872;
MacLean 1990). The basic emotions are neural, motivational, and expressive reac-
tions that can occur rapidly in reaction to an environmental stimulus posing an
60 Emotions basic to alienation
opportunity or a threat (Buck 1999; Izard 2007; Panksepp 2011). These affec-
tive responses, in humans, are cognitively elaborated and crucial to the process
of sharing important information with conspecifics about pressing problems of
life (Plutchik 1962, 1983; MacLean 1990; LaFrenière 2000; Panksepp and Biven
2012:42–3). The basic emotions remain essential for humans’ ability to meet uni-
versal survival needs, reproduce, engage with the world, and flourish.
Scholars have endeavored to identify the emotions that might be the most basic
or primary. Two issues are involved: Is there a set of emotions that are primary,
or basic? And if so, which emotions are they? Those who accept some concept of
primary emotions have presented lists of these putatively primary emotions, often
on the basis of raw intuition and without any theoretical rationale. We propose that
there are indeed primary emotions, and that these possess the following properties:
(i) address fundamental problems of communication between conspecifics;
(ii) address the most central problems of life; (iii) can be shown to have developed
in a wide variety of animal species; (iv) are recognized, by sight and sound, cross-
culturally; (v) are not themselves mixtures or combinations of simpler emotions;
and (vi) are able to combine with other primary emotions to form secondary emo-
tions, and combine with secondary emotions to form pathways to tertiary emo-
tions. We propose a theoretical strategy for emotions classification, based upon a
synthesis of four well-known typologies. These typologies are (i) Plutchik’s (1983)
model of four existential problems; (ii) Plutchik’s (1958, 1962) model of four pairs
of oppositely valenced primary emotions that address his four basic problems of
life; (iii) MacLean’s (1990) model of four kinds of communicative action; and
(iv) Fiske’s (1991) model of four elementary forms of human sociality.
Numerous studies point to the existence of several cross-culturally understood
emotions. Darwin (1872) argued that, because of their deep evolutionary origins,
facial expressions of the simplest emotions, such as joy, fear, and anger, are simi-
lar among humans, regardless of culture. Confirming Darwin’s insight, Ekman,
Sorenson and Friesen (1969), in studies in New Guinea, Borneo, Brazil, Japan,
and the United States, found that tribal-living people, with scant exposure to out-
siders, were able to recognize the emotional significance of facial expressions in
pictures of individuals from modern societies. Conversely, individuals in modern
societies were similarly able to recognize the emotions displayed in images of
facial expressions of members of the preliterate cultures. Eibl-Eibesfeldt (1989)
showed that deaf and blind children make facial expressions similar to those of
non-impaired children, and inferred that several of these emotional expressions
are universal, because of genetically inherited “fixed action patterns.” In a com-
parative study of culturally isolated Namibian villagers and Westerners, Sauter
et al. (2010) extended cross-cultural recognition of these primary emotions (exclud-
ing surprise) to include nonverbal emotional vocalizations (including screams
and laughs). Primary emotions are thus understood cross-culturally both in facial
expressions and vocalizations, the two primary means of communicating social
signals. On the basis of this and subsequent research, Ekman, Sorenson and Friesen
(1969; see also Ekman 1992) have identified six primary emotions – joy, sadness,
fear, anger, disgust, and surprise.
 Emotions as adaptive reactions 61
The case against primary emotions
Despite impressive evidence supporting the concept of primary emotions, there
are emotions paradigms that do not accept the existence of primary emotions.
Many cognitive theorists, psychological constructionists, and social construction-
ists typically or predominantly reject the existence of primary emotions. Cognitive
appraisal theorists generally reject the claim that emotions are intrinsic to the more
primitive regions of the brain (Ortony, Clore and Collins 1988; Scherer, Schorr and
Johnstone 2001). They instead hold that emotions emerge as neocortical regions
of the brain make cognitive sense of bodily processes and others’ behaviors in the
context of social situations and events. The emotions we experience, this approach
holds, are a function of how and what we cognize as having caused a situation or
event and how we interpret the event, including whether we interpret the situation
or event as positive or negative.
Psychological constructivists (e.g., Lindquist et al. 2012) similarly see discrete
emotions as based not on localized brain structures or mechanisms, but rather on
general brain networks that are not dedicated to particular emotion categories, but
instead are involved in both emotional and non-emotional, and especially, cog-
nitive, operations. Psychological constructivists differ from cognitive-appraisal
theorists, because they typically see affective responses as involving irreducible
psychological functions which are not specifically dedicated to any discrete emo-
tion. These hypothesized ‘psychological primitives’, however, have not been
identified.
Both cognitive theorists and psychological constructivists have also claimed
that emotions emerge only with infant language capacity; this contention, how-
ever, is undermined insofar as (i) these basic, or first-order, emotions emerge in
infancy while infants are still relying on subcortical behavioral mechanisms and
well before the onset of language (Izard, Woodburn and Finlon 2010); (ii) human
babies born without cerebral hemispheres (i.e., anencephalic) cannot become intel-
lectually developed but can grow up to be affectively vibrant if raised in nurtur-
ing and stimulating social environments (Shewmon, Holmes and Byrne 1999);
and (iii) basic emotions unfold through epigenetic programs according to precise,
universal timetables (Sroufe 1997; LaFrenière 2000) and persist throughout the
life-span (V. Demos 1983).
Social constructivists see emotions as cultural products but not as evolutionary
adaptations involving brain structures (Averill 1980; Gordon 1981; Harré 1986;
McCarthy 1989; Mesquita and Frijda 1991; Boiger and Mesquita 2012). They find
little meaning in identifying an emotion as either primary or complex and tend to
dismiss the view that sentiments and emotions can emerge through the combining
of basic emotions. Gordon (1981:567), for example, derisively pronounces such
a view a “fallacy” and a “reduction” of the social to the psychological. Of course,
affective states can be socially constructed, and sociologists and anthropologists
of the emotions have contributed greatly to understanding cultural constructions
of feelings, sentiments, and emotions. Additionally, in the face of overwhelming
evidence from neuropsychology and affective neuroscience, most contemporary
62 Emotions basic to alienation
social constructivists would concede that emotions cannot arise in the absence
of psychological processes, and that these mental processes are, in turn, impos-
sible without underlying neural processing. Influenced by evidence from affective
neuroscience, practitioners of the sociology of emotions have offered candidate
inventories of primary emotions (Thamm 1992; TenHouten 1996, 2007, 2013b,
2016a, 2016b; J. Turner 2010; Scheff 2015).
The utility of the concept of primary emotions depends to a great deal on whether
it enables emotions classification, that is, the identification not only of the primary
emotions, but also of complex emotions whose constituent elements are basic or
primary emotions. Remarkably, little attention has been paid to this potential to
use primary emotions as the basis for classifying complex emotions. We propose
that, if a specific set of emotions are indeed primary, then all other emotions can be
conceptualized as secondary (comprised of two primaries) or tertiary (comprised
of three primaries). Plutchik (1962) was the first emotions researcher to attempt
a classification of secondary emotions. After considering Plutchik’s model of the
primary emotions, we will present, and modify, his tentative classification of sec-
ondary emotions.

Emotions and social relations

Plutchik’s psychoevolutionary model of the primary emotions

While Darwin (1872) saw emotions as adaptive reactions to problems of life, he
did not identify these problems and made no effort to classify the many emotions
he considered. Plutchik (1962, 1980, 1983), however, developed a psychoevolu-
tionary model in which he identified four such life problems – identity, temporal-
ity, hierarchy, and territoriality. For each of these life problems, there can be either
an opportunity, or a danger or threat; a situation is either negatively or positively
valenced.1 There can thus occur any of eight problem–valence situations, each
of which triggers a distinct subjective state of mind which activates a potential
adaptive reaction. These eight prototypical adaptive reactions, Plutchik argued,
constitute the primary emotions. Plutchik arranged these primary emotions in a
circumplex pattern, with the distance between emotions proportional to their dis-
similarity (TenHouten 1995, 2007:18–22). The resulting model, which Plutchik
called his ‘wheel’ of primary emotions, is shown in Figure 5.1. Plutchik proposed
that the eight resulting subjective states comprise the primary emotions. Thus,
Plutchik identified eight primary emotions which he analyzed as four pairs of
oppositely valenced primary emotions, with each pair addressing one of his four
existential problems: For identity, these subjective-states/associated-function are
acceptance/incorporation and disgust/rejection; for temporality, joy/reproduction
and sadness/reintegration; for hierarchy, anger/destruction and fear/protection;
and for territoriality, anticipation2/exploration and surprise/boundary-defense.
Plutchik, for example, saw that the positive experience of temporality triggers a
feeling of joy–happiness, and that the negative experience of a violation of one’s
territory or resources triggers a surprise reaction.
 Life Problems Basic functions Emotions Valences Acceptance

identity incorporation acceptance positive

. rejection disgust negative Joy–Happiness Identity Surprise

temporality reproduction joy–happiness positive Temporality

. reintegration sadness–grief negative Anger Hierarchy Fear
Territoriality
hierarchy destruction anger–rage positive
. protection fear–terror negative Anticipation– Sadness
Expectation
territoriality exploration anticipation positive
. boundary defense surprise negative
Disgust

Figure 5.1 (A) Plutchik’s model of the primary emotions and (B) Plutchik’s circumplex or ‘wheel’ of the eight primary emotions
64 Emotions basic to alienation
MacLean’s rescue of Plutchik
One limitation of Plutchik’s primary-emotions model is that he presents only scat-
tered evidence that he has correctly identified the most basic problems of life. He
based his fourfold model of life problems not on rigorous experimental studies of
animal and human brains, but rather on insights gleaned from other scholars who
speculatively presented similar inventories of ‘existential’ problems. Additionally,
Plutchik (1980:147) had little to say about the social processes through which indi-
viduals might confront these four problems of life. His conceptualization there-
fore suffers a sociological emptiness, which to some extent has undermined his
model’s appeal to practitioners of the social sciences, social psychologists, and
social neuroscientists.
However, Plutchik’s model has gained a level of validation through the evo-
lutionary neuroethology of MacLean (1990). In his program of comparative
research on lizards, rats, and humans, MacLean reached two broad conclusions:
(i) the human brain has evolved a triune structure, consisting of reptilian, mam-
malian, and neomammalian levels of brain development, and (ii) even for rep-
tiles, there have evolved four kinds of communicative displays (see below).
MacLean’s triune brain model has both critics (Reiner 1990; Butler and Hodos
1996; LeDoux 1996) and defenders (Cory 2002; Panksepp 2002), but his four-
fold model of communicative displays is on solid footing. While the advent of
the mammalian brain led to elaboration of the emotions as adaptive reactions,
MacLean found that proto-emotional adaptive reactions are enabled by the fore-
brains of pre-mammalian animals, variously called the “reptilian brain,” the
“R-complex,” and the “striatal complex.” The R-complex consists of the upper
part of the brainstem, the diencephalon, parts of the midbrain, and the dorsal
portion of the basil ganglia (the dorsal striatum, which contains as its major parts
the caudate and putamen). The basil ganglia exist throughout pre-mammalian
animals, including all reptiles, birds, fish, eels, and amphibians, and have been
preserved and elaborated in brains of mammals and humans. The advent of
the limbic system in mammals (Joseph 2012), and the neocortex in humans,
have hardly rendered the R-complex obsolete. The human basil ganglia play an
important role in rational decision-making by contributing to action selection, or
the process of deciding which of multiple possible actions to execute (Balasub-
ramani et al. 2015). The human brain’s basal ganglia contribute to social com-
munication, social displays, and affect-laden social relations. Following caudate
damage, there is degraded motivation capacity and degraded speech quality, with
verbal responses slow, abulic, terse, incomplete, and emotionally flat. While the
exact functions of the R-complex are not fully understood, studies (reviewed
by Van Lancker Sidtis et al. 2006) suggest that, in humans, this ancient brain
architecture remains essential for behaviorally motivated, affect-laden social
signaling and communicative displays.
MacLean identified exactly four such communicative displays: (i) signature dis-
plays; (ii) territorial displays; (iii) courtship displays; and (iv) challenge or domi-
nance (and submission) displays. MacLean’s experimental studies indicated that
 Emotions as adaptive reactions 65
these displays are found even in lizards and are enabled by the R-complex. There is
clearly an isomorphism between MacLean’s and Plutchik’s models: Maclean’s sig-
nature displays underlie Plutchik’s problem of identity; courtship displays underlie
temporality (the cycle of life and death); challenge and submission displays under-
lie hierarchy; and territorial displays underlie territoriality. Thus, if MacLean’s
model is valid, and the mapping of one model onto the other is justified, then it
follows that Plutchik’s model is likely also valid.

Fiske’s social-relations model sociologically generalizes the

Plutchik–MacLean model
Given its alignment with MacLean’s communicative displays, Plutchik’s model
of the eight primary emotions gains a neurobiological foundation. To enhance
understanding of human emotions in their social contexts, however, it is help-
ful to generalize Plutchik’s four life-problems to the most elementary of social
relations. Fiske (1991) provides a key for such theoretical elaboration. He
proposes that, across human cultures, there are just four elementary social
relationships, which he terms “equality matching” (EM), “communal sharing”
(CS), “authority ranking” (AR), and “market pricing” (MP). Equality-matched
social relations involve egalitarian interactions among peers who are distinct
but co-equal. EM relations are manifested in turn-taking, in-kind reciprocity,
distributive justice, matched contributions, lex talionis retaliatory vengeance,
and equality of voice in decision-making. Communally shared social relations
are close and personal, and include kinship relations which enable perpetua-
tion of the group beyond the individual, which includes the functions of sexual
reproduction and community reintegration following the loss of a member.
Authority-ranked social relations pertain to communicative displays of social
power, domination, influence, and status competition in social hierarchies
that involve anger and fear. Market-priced social relations involve territory
(an activity range) that provides valued resources; in humans, this extends to
socioeconomic behavior.
We propose mapping the combined MacLean–Plutchik model into Fiske’s
social relations model: Accordingly: (i) signature–identity generalizes into
EM-based social relations; (ii) courtship–temporality, into CS; (iii) dominance–
hierarchy, into AR; and (iv) territory–territoriality, that is, control of resources
in the environment, into MP (TenHouten 2013b:27–42). The resulting model is
displayed in Figure 5.2. This model is useful for understanding, and even pre-
dicting, the relationship between involvement in (valenced) social relations and
the experience of the primary emotions (and vice versa). Thus, for example, an
individual immersed in a positive experience of CS, in a close personal relation-
ship with a significant other, can be predicted to experience joy or happiness.
Similarly, an individual experiencing a negative experience of MP (MP−), upon
realizing that his or her resources are threatened, can be predicted to experience
surprise.
66 Emotions basic to alienation

Anger
Fear
Plutchik’s Four Anticipation Joy–Happiness
Pairs of Primary Surprise Sadness
Emotions Acceptance
Disgust
Authority
Ranking
Fiske’s Four Market Communal
Social Pricing Sharing
Relations Equality
Matching
Hierarchy

Plutchik’s Four
Existential Territoriality Temporality
Problems
Identity
Dominance
and Submission
McLean’s Four
Communicative Territorial Courtship
Displays
Signature

Figure 5.2 Continuities in the models of MacLean, Plutchik, and Fiske

From primary to higher-order emotions

[P]assions are susceptible of an entire union; and like colours, may be blended so
perfectly together, that each of them may lose itself and contribute only to vary
that uniform impression which arises from the whole. Some of the most curious
phenomena of the human mind are deriv’d from this property of the passions.
– David Hume ([1739] 1978:366)

Du and colleagues (Du and Martinez 2011; Du, Tao and Martinez 2014) have
studied the 15 possible secondary emotions formed through pairings of the 6 emo-
tions Ekman and colleagues have demonstrated to be cross-culturally recognizable
(joy, sadness, anger, fear, disgust, and surprise). In a study of 230 subjects, they
found that the facial muscles involved in the secondary-level emotions were the
same facial muscles involved in the component primary emotions. For example,
the facial expression for a happy surprise (interpreted here as delight) combines
muscle movements observed in both happy and surprised facial expressions. For
the 21 (6 primary, 15 secondary) defined categories, a computational model of face
perception was used to produce facial expressions. It was found that most of these
categories were visually discriminated by the subjects. These results lend impor-
tant evidentiary support of the concepts of primary and second-order emotions.
Using his primary-emotions model, Plutchik (1962:117–18) had attempted a
provisional classification of secondary emotions. Plutchik saw his effort as a
development of Darwin’s (1872) evolutionary theory of emotions, wherein Dar-
win provided a “principle of antithesis,” according to which opposite situations
 Emotions as adaptive reactions 67
evoke opposite emotional reactions. Yet, Plutchik did not propose that opposite
pairs of emotions could combine to form secondary emotions; for example, he
did not show that the combination of anger and fear could induce a state of
frozenness or tonic immobility. Plutchik ([1962] 1991:118) also presented no
candidate for the combination of surprise and disgust, interpreted elsewhere as
shock (TenHouten 2007:88–90). Thus, of 28 possible pairings of 8 primary emo-
tions, Plutchik defined just 23. Plutchik’s designed his circumplex or “wheel” of
primary emotions so that the distances between emotions reflected their dissimi-
larity. Pairs of adjacent emotions are called “primary dyads,” emotions two posi-
tions apart, “secondary dyads,” and those three positions apart, “tertiary dyads.”
Plutchik did not define emotions that are four positions apart, but we include them
in Table 5.1 and call them “quaternary dyads.” Plutchik’s model, and a revision,
are shown in this table.

Table 5.1 Plutchik’s 1962 classification of the secondary emotions, a revision, and hypoth-
esized associated elementary social relations

Secondary Emotions Plutchik’s 1962 A Revised Social

Definitions Classification Relations
Primary Dyads
acceptance & joy love love EM+ CS+
joy & anger pride pride CS+ AR+
anger & anticipation aggression, revenge, aggressiveness AR+ MP+
stubbornness
anticipation & disgust cynicism cynicism MP+ EM−
disgust & sadness misery, remorse, loneliness EM− CS−
forlornness
sadness & fear despair, guilt shame CS− AR−
fear & surprise alarm, awe alarm, awe AR− MP−
surprise & acceptance curiosity curiosity MP− EM+
Secondary Dyads
acceptance & anger dominance dominance EM+ AR+
acceptance & fear submissiveness submissiveness EM+ AR−
anger & disgust scorn, loathing,
indignation,
contempt, hate, contempt EM− AR+
resentment
disgust & fear shame, prudishness repugnance, EM− AR−
abhorrence
joy & surprise delight delight CS+ MP−
sadness & surprise embarrassment, disappointment CS− MP−
disappointment
joy & anticipation optimism, courage, optimism CS+ MP+
hopefulness, conceit
optimism
sadness & anticipation pessimism pessimism CS− MP+

(Continued)
68 Emotions basic to alienation
Table 5.1 (Continued)

Secondary Emotions Plutchik’s 1962 A Revised Social

Definitions Classification Relations
Tertiary Dyads
anger & surprise outrage, resentment, outrage AR+ MP−
hate
joy & fear guilt guilt CS+ AR−
acceptance & sadness resignation, resignation EM+ CS−
sentimentality
surprise & disgust ? shock MP− AR+
fear & anticipation anxiety, caution, anxiety AR−, MP+
dread, cowardliness,
distrust
sadness & anger envy, sullenness sullenness, CS–, AR+
balefulness
disgust & joy morbidness derisiveness EM–, CS+
anticipation & fatalism resourcefulness, MP+, EM+
acceptance fatalism
Quaternary Dyads
acceptance & disgust — ambivalence EM+, EM–
joy & sadness –– bittersweetness CS+, CS–
anger & fear –– frozenness, tonic AR+, AR–
immobility
anticipation & –– confusion, MP+, MP–
surprise discombobulation
Sources: TenHouten (2007:111, 2013b:18–19).
Note: The secondary emotions included in one or more of the seven varieties of alienation are shown
in italics.

Plutchik did not endeavor to define any of the 56 possible tertiary emotions,
even though his classification of secondary emotions omitted affective states that
would appear to be tertiary emotions, including jealousy, envy, discouragement,
despair, resentment, hatred, dread, worry, and vengefulness. Yet, Plutchik ([1962]
1991:156) indirectly raised the possibility of tertiary emotions by suggesting that
“feelings of resentment are composed of (at least) disgust and anger.” Additionally,
Plutchik proposed that surprise is also linked to resentment, by suggesting that
“anger + surprise = outrage, resentment, hate” (Plutchik [1962] 1991:118). It has
been proposed that resentment is indeed a tertiary emotion, so that “resentment =
disgust & anger & surprise” (TenHouten 2013b:20). A model of resentment as a
tertiary emotion, that is, as containing three primary emotions and three secondary
emotions, will be developed in Chapter 8.
The present theoretical model, Affect Spectrum Theory (AST) (TenHouten
1996, 2007, 2013b, 2016a, 2016b, 2016c), suggests that – given knowledge of
individuals’ involvement in (valenced) social relations – it is possible to predict
occurrences of primary emotions and, in principle, of secondary and tertiary emo-
tions. For example, the primary emotions joy–happiness and surprise are predicted
 Emotions as adaptive reactions 69
by (CS+) and (MP−), respectively. If love can be defined, as Plutchik does, as a
mixture of joy–happiness and acceptance, then love can be predicted to result
from the interactive effect of CS+ and EM+. And, if resentment is comprised of
disgust, anger, and surprise, then it can arise in complex situations in which an
individual experiences EM−, AR+, and MP−. Moreover, this would mean resent-
ment includes in its meaning the secondary emotions contempt (anger & disgust),
outrage (anger & surprise), and shock (surprise & disgust).

Discussion
The weight of contemporary evidence, much of it from affective neuroscience,
strongly supports the view that primary emotions exist, and that all humans work
from a common palette of affective responses (Tomkins 1962, 1963; Delgado
2004). This work advocates the view that basic emotions do indeed exist, each
addressing a fundamental problem of life, each linked to a specific elementary
social relationship, and all subject to classification.
The four approaches to emotion – (i) cognitive appraisal theory, (ii) psycho-
logical constructionism, (iii) social constructionism, and (iv) primary emotions
theory – all contribute to our understanding of emotions. While these theories have
been widely seen as competitive, they all, to a degree, contain truth value (Chiao
2015:2). The position we develop here does not claim that appraisal and construc-
tivist approaches have no explanatory power; clearly they do. We instead claim
that practitioners of cognitive and constructivist approaches are unnecessarily dis-
missive of the concept of primary emotions. We further propose that development
of the primary-emotions approach to the study of emotions is largely compatible
with other approaches, and more importantly provides insights that draw us closer
to a broader understanding of the emotions in relation to psychological processes
and participation in the social world.
Perhaps the two most useful models of primary emotions are those presented
by Ekman and colleagues and by Plutchik. The six emotions that possess cross-
cultural facial recognition are identified by both Ekman and Plutchik as primary.
Plutchik’s model also includes acceptance and anticipation, which do not pos-
sess distinct facial expressions. If Plutchik’s model is valid, then cross-culturally
recognized facial expression is a sufficient, but might not be a necessary, crite-
rion for regarding an emotion as primary. This would mean that anticipation and
acceptance, despite lacking facial-expression correlates, are indeed primary. This
issue cannot be resolved here, even though we hold that MacLean, Plutchik, and
Fiske present valid models and that there is an isomorphic continuity between
their models.
There are at least two additional grounds for regarding anticipation and accep-
tance primary. First, if Darwin’s principal of antithesis is valid, then if disgust is
primary, its opposite, acceptance, must also be primary; likewise, if surprise is pri-
mary, its opposite, anticipation, is also primary. And second, several emotions not
regarded as primary can be classified as higher-order emotions that contain antic-
ipation and/or acceptance. (i) According to the present classification, emotions
70 Emotions basic to alienation
that contain anticipation include aggressiveness (anger & anticipation), cynicism
(anticipation of disgust), pessimism (anticipation of sadness), anxiety (a fearful
anticipation), and confusion (anticipating one outcome, then being surprised by
another). (ii) Proposed secondary emotions involving acceptance include love
(joyful acceptance of another), dominance (experiencing others accepting one’s
anger, functionally moving toward a contested goal), ambivalence (feeling both
accepted and rejected), resignation (acceptance of an impending saddening out-
come), submissiveness (fearfully accepting, or acquiescing to, the goal-directed
anger of another), and curiosity (acceptance–openness to the new and surpris-
ing). (iii) The combination of acceptance and anticipation can be interpreted as
resourcefulness (exploring the environment – the function of anticipation, and
incorporating resources – the function of acceptance). A secondary meaning of
resourcefulness is found in fatalism, where one hopes for resources enabled by
some ineffable or subtle agent (e.g., Lady Luck).
Of course, it can be argued that these putative emotions are really social-
intention states, or sentiments, and being more complex than their primary com-
ponents, they possess high levels of cognitive content. Both points are valid, but
we note that (i) all emotions (with the possible exception of fear induced by a
falling branch) and anger (upon stubbing one’s toe) are social intention states, a
conclusion that has been amply demonstrated in the sociology of emotions; and
(ii) it makes sense that secondary emotions would have more cognitive content
than primary emotions. It also seems reasonable to speculate that tertiary emo-
tions would, in turn, have a higher level of cognitive content than do secondary
emotions. This would appear to be true of complex emotions such as resentment,
envy, dread, and despair.
The perspective developed here embraces the notion of primary emotions, each
of which exists as a natural kind, with distinct neural correlates, and lack of which
has evolved as a genetically inherited response to the most fundamental problems
of life. Social constructivists tend to reject the idea of primary emotions, but, even
if their position is incorrect, it does not distract from their contribution to our
understanding of how socially learned cultural scripts transmit features of emo-
tions and how they can communicate affective states (Chiao 2015).
While the debate about the existence, or non-existence, of primary emotions
continues unabated, less attention has focused upon what follows from the answer
to this question. If there are no primary emotions, and all emotions therefore exist
sui generis, then there can be no hierarchical classification of the emotions. How-
ever, if primary emotions do exist – and the evidence reviewed above points to that
conclusion, then their identification becomes important. It then becomes possible
to classify, and thus better understand, the complex emotions formed from pairs
and triples of the primary emotions. It additionally becomes possible to distinguish
complex emotions from affective states, or from sentiments, that are not emotions.
Plutchik recognized this implication of his model of primary emotions, and this
recognition led him to an innovative, if not entirely successful, classification of
secondary emotions. Plutchik, however, took little subsequent interest in explain-
ing or investigating his own classification of secondary emotions, and he made
 Emotions as adaptive reactions 71
only a tentative gesture toward classifying one possibly tertiary-level emotion,
resentment. There are important complex emotions that, according to the present
classification, are neither primary nor secondary, and therefore might well be ter-
tiary. Among these possible emotions are envy, jealousy, bliss, confidence, hatred,
and despair. Other complex affective states important for social life might or might
not be definable as tertiary emotions; these include ruthlessness, disillusionment,
enmity, enthusiasm, and grouchiness. It will take considerable effort to determine
which affective states are best defined as specific tertiary emotions or as socially
constructed sentiments. Without a model of primary emotions, these questions
about higher-order emotions cannot be resolved either conceptually or empirically.
Many prominent scholars have argued that emotions cannot be classified. In
philosophy, Spinoza ([1677] 1957:63) opined that, “the emotions may be com-
pounded one with another in so many ways, and so many variations may arise
therefore, as to exceed all possibility of computation.” In sociology, Durkheim
and Mauss ([1903] 1963:86–97) reached the remarkable conclusion that all social
classifications are ultimately based on sentiments, and that the “emotional value
of notions . . . is the dominant characteristic in classification.” At the same time,
they lamented, “States of an emotional nature . . . mingle their properties in such
a way that they cannot be rigorously categorized.” In contrast, it is a premise of
this work that there is indeed a set of basic, or elementary, emotions with deep
evolutionary roots, existing as natural kinds, and that Plutchik correctly identified
these nearly six decades ago, in 1958. If this is indeed the case, then the number
of more complex emotions that can be formed from the basic emotions is not, as
Spinoza asserted, beyond all possible computation. Instead, it can be inferred, by
combinatorial logic, that if there are 8 primary emotions, then there can be as many
as 28 secondary emotions, 56 tertiary emotions, and 92 emotions in all.
While the neurophilosophical debate concerning the existence of basic or pri-
mary emotions will long continue, the evidence increasingly shows that there
exists a set of basic or primary emotions that are deeply embedded in the evolu-
tion of animal life. While psychological constructivists have presented coherent,
well-reasoned arguments to the contrary, it would not be unwarranted to propose
yet another criterion for regarding an emotion as primary. In particular, we pro-
pose that a primary emotion can be evoked without great difficulty in a laboratory
setting, where its associated brainwork can be neurometrically measured using
various functional imaging technologies or evoked-potential paradigms. In their
meta-analytic review of such research, which concludes that there are no primary
emotions, Lindquist et al. (2012) reported extensively on just five emotions – joy,
anger, disgust, sadness, and fear. What lies beyond the reach of contemporary
affective neuroscience is a consideration of more complex emotions.
Eighteenth- and nineteenth-century scholars ranging from Enlightenment senti-
mentalists to romanticists, to Kantians and Hegelians, to empiricists were in broad
agreement that human emotions such as love, pride, and ambition, if properly chan-
neled and morally grounded, can contribute to human progress (L. Crocker 1963;
James 1997; Frazer 2010). Are these and other complex emotions all sui generis,
socially and culturally constructed, and beyond the possibility of classification?
72 Emotions basic to alienation
Or, can they be classified as secondary or even tertiary emotions? This remains a
fundamental, unresolved question, not only for affective neuroscience but also for
neuroanthropology, neuroeconomics, neuropolitics, and neurosociology. In order
to address this problem, it will be necessary to take a multi-level approach, and
to recognize that feeling, sentiment, and emotion not only involve brainwork, but
also emerge at the intersection of body, mind, and society.

Notes
1 The experience of hedonic ‘valence’, meaning pleasant or unpleasant feelings, and the
presentation of objects as ‘positive’ or ‘negative’ has been shown not to be supported by
specific brain systems (Lindquist et al. 2012). This does not mean, however, that specific
primary emotions do not possess valence. Anger, for example, while hedonically nega-
tive inasmuch as it is typically unpleasant for all involved, can be considered a positive
emotion in that it is an approach-oriented, goal-directed emotion that prioritizes the
attainment of favorable outcomes (Tomarken and Zald 2009). It is a re-assertive response
to goal blockage or denigration (Carver and Harmon-Jones 2009). Anger of mild inten-
sity can enhance analytic processing (Moons and Mackie 2007), and its approach-motivated
features are visible even in infancy (He et al. 2010).
2 Anticipation has an elaborate brain infrastructure (Panksepp 1998:144–63; Brunia
1999), and is synonymous with “interest–excitement” (Tomkins 1962:336–8; Izard
1977:189–238) and the “appetitive motivational seeking system” (Panksepp and Biven
2012:95–144).
6 Normlessness, anomie,
and the emotions

Introduction
In Part I, we examined major social theorists’ conceptualizations of alienation.
Not included was the seminal scholar Émile Durkheim, whose Suicide ([1897]
1960:58–9, 67, 72–5) spoke of “mental alienation” in reference to individuals
who have lost sanity, or are out of their minds. Durkheim also presented a pen-
etrating analysis of normlessness, one of our five varieties of alienation; he linked
normlessness not to alienation, but to the closely related concept of anomie. In
particular, Durkheim investigated egoistic, altruistic, and anomic types of sui-
cide and linked them to “fundamental” and “secondary” affective states. He fur-
ther broadened his earlier conceptualization of anomie as a deficiency in social
interaction (Durkheim [1893] 1984:291–309) by elaborating a microsociological
analysis that conceptualized anomie as involving individuals’ departures from, or
lack of regulation by, the normative order. Durkheim recognized that the norma-
tive order of the group is the ultimate source of social regulation that guides and
constrains human behavior.
Implicit in Durkheim’s Suicide are dualistic conceptualizations of both norm-
lessness and anomie: one is a self-seeking, intentional, and ruthless disregard of
norms; the other, an unintentional, discouraging uncertainty about the normative
order. We explicate this twofold distinction in order to develop causal models
relating two kinds of normlessness–anomie to specific emotions and to poten-
tial secondary affect-laden behavioral consequences, including both suicide and
homicide. Durkheim argued that the management and control of the emotions
plays an important role in maintaining social order. Normative dysregulation, Dur-
kheim ([1897] 1960:258; cited in Marks 1974:332) asserted, manifests in “conse-
quent sufferings,” which can in turn move affected individuals to acts of violence,
including suicide and homicide. Durkheim identified annual rates of these violent
acts as indicative of pathological social disorder.
Durkheim developed a fourfold model of suicidality and attendant affective
states of mind by combining two levels of social organization, the functional inte-
gration into, and the regulation by, the normative order of the group or society. He
saw egoistic and altruistic suicide impacted by societal under- and over-integration,
while anomic and fatalistic suicide resulted from under- and over-regulation.
74 Emotions basic to alienation
Durkheim further proposed a link between social organization and the emotions,
and accordingly developed a highly tentative cross-classification of “basic” and
“mixed” types of suicide, which he linked to “fundamental” and to “secondary”
socioaffective states. Durkheim’s ([1897] 1960:293) summary chart is exactly rep-
licated as Table 6.1. Rather than analyzing Durkheim’s entire model, we will focus
on just one row entry of this “aetiological and morphological” cross-classification of
basic and mixed types of suicide and their associated affective states, namely “anomic
suicide.” Durkheim linked his entry, “anomic suicide,” (i) to the “fundamental” emo-
tions “irritation” (more generally, anger) and “disgust” (with “disappointment” dis-
cussed in the text but not tabled), and (ii) to the “secondary” socioaffective states of
“violent recriminations . . . against life in general” and/or “against one particular per-
son (homicide/suicide).” Durkheim’s model of the emotions interior to anomie, and
anomie’s possible links to suicide and homicide, is part summary, part speculation,
and highly tentative; it does not broach the possibility that yet other emotions might
be involved in anomie and its potential behavioral consequences. We elaborate Dur-
kheim’s model of normative dysregulation – together with anomie as an affect-laden
state of mind – in order to identify its potential behavioral consequences. Toward this
end, we investigate Durkheim’s twofold conceptualization of normlessness–anomie,
and identify key affect-laden, anomic states of mind which are associated with, and
can emerge in, each of these two normative orientations. We conceptualize each of
these two states of mind as based upon three primary emotions and three secondary
emotions. We hypothesize that these affective orientations potentially contribute, on
the one hand, to states ranging from shamelessness to premeditated homicidality;
and, on the other, to states ranging from depression to suicidality.

Table 6.1 Aetiological and morphological classification of social types of suicide

Individual Forms Assumed

Fundamental Character Secondary Varieties

Egoistic suicide Apathy Indolent melancholy with self-complacence

The skeptic’s disillusioned sangfroid
Altruistic suicide Energy of With calm feeling of duty
passion With mystic enthusiasm
or will With peaceful courage
Basic types Anomic suicide Irritation, Violent recriminations against life in general
disgust Violent recriminations against one
particular person (homicide-suicide)
Ego-anomic Mixture of agitation and apathy, of action
suicide and reverie
Anomic-altruistic Exasperated effervescence
suicide
Mixed types Ego-altruistic Melancholy tempered with moral fortitude
suicide
Source: Durkheim ([1897] 1960:293)
 Normlessness, anomie, and the emotions 75
Active, intentional normlessness1–anomie1
Durkheim’s analysis of normative under-regulation suggests that normlessness, as
experienced by the individual, possesses a twofold nature: one of intentional and
active norm violation (normlessness1) and the other of unintentional and passive
norm violation, resulting from ambiguous normative expectations (normlessness2).

Active, intentional normlessness1

Durkheim saw that, in modern societies, most individuals internalize moral norms,
and are adequately socialized, becoming “docile to collective authority, that is . . .
[possessing] a wholesome moral constitution” (Durkheim [1897] 1960:250). At
the same time, Durkheim saw the necessity of normative constraints on individual
action, because pre-socialized or under-socialized individuals inherently tend to
pursue their self-interest. Durkheim defined self-interest as seeking, without limi-
tation, one’s needs, passions, and desires. “Men’s passions,” Durkheim ([1893]
1984:xxxii–xxxiii), in a Hobbesian moment, declared, “are only stayed by a moral
presence they respect. If all authority of this kind is lacking, it is the law of the
strongest that rules, and a state of warfare, either latent or acute, is necessarily
endemic.” Durkheim ([1897] 1960:255–6) saw modern industrial organization as
creating tendencies in some under-regulated individuals toward a “liberation of
desires” and “overexcited ambition,” such that, “From top to bottom of the ladder,
greed is aroused without knowing where to find ultimate foothold. Nothing can
calm it, since its goal is far beyond all it can attain.” Durkheim emphasized the
destructive effects of individuals who show such disregard for the moral order,
and fail to conduct themselves morally, “which is a matter of abiding by a norm,
determining what conduct should obtain in a given instance” (Durkheim [1925]
1961:23, 37).
Durkheim thus maintained that the force of human passions, desires, and
emotions motivates individuals, especially in the modern world, to strive for
social success, positions of dominance, and the acquisition of wealth and
resources, a human propensity necessitating the social regulation of individuals’
behavior. While material needs are regulated by the body, socioemotional needs
are not so regulated, for they are unlimited. “Our capacity for feeling,” Dur-
kheim ([1897] 1960:361, 252) wrote, is an “insatiable and bottomless abyss.”
Because individuals cannot easily limit their strivings, desires, and passions,
Durkheim reasoned, these can only be controlled by the regulatory force of a
society’s moral order. Society (and especially the state, which can back up its
rules and norms with sanctions [Durkheim 1900]), is the only moral power
superior to the individual. Adequate regulation of individuals’ desires, passions,
and associated behavior, Durkheim explained, depends upon societal members
sharing basic values and behavioral norms derived from their cultural heritage
and belief systems.
Societies undergoing rapid change provide opportunities for normless behav-
ior. But even in the most stable societies, individuals can willfully break norms,
violate rules, and immorally inflict injury on others. Normlessness1–anomie1 can
76 Emotions basic to alienation
obtain when individuals have not been adequately socialized to internalize group
norms or intentionally violate norms (Meštrović and Brown 1985; Meštrović 1987,
1988). Durkheim discussed deviant individual-level behaviors wherein moral rules
(règles) and norms are willfully broken; these aberrant behaviors include per-
version, vice, debauchery, dissolute conduct, larceny, and cruelty. Durkheim saw
these as the secular equivalent of sin, or the profaning of the sacred (Meštrović and
Brown 1985; Meštrović 1988). Modern societies include many individuals who
are alienated from the normative order or view it as navigable for their own ends.
These individuals possess instrumentally manipulative, aggressive, even Machia-
vellian attitudes; they will lie, cheat, steal, manipulate, or cunningly outwit others
to achieve their goals.

Anomie1
The French anomie has been variously translated into English as ‘normless-
ness’, ‘normative confusion’, ‘dysregulation’, and ‘deregulation’ (see Dohren-
wend 1959:472; La Capra 1972:159). Durkheim’s only synonym for anomie was
dérèglement, for which ‘normlessness’ and ‘deregulation’ are poor translations
(Lalande [1926] 1980:61; citing Durkheim [1897] 1983:281). The concepts of
‘normlessness’ came into usage only in the late 1950s (e.g., Seeman 1959) and
did not exist in Durkheim’s time (Meštrović 1988:62–3). Our first kind of anomie
(anomie1) differs from normlessness, and is perhaps best translated as derange-
ment; it is a deranged, morally compromised state of mind in which the individual,
holding an attitude that the norms of society can be violated out of self-interest
(normlessness1), can develop an affect-laden state of mind that finds enjoyment
and a sense of pride; this comprises an interrelated set of emotions including anger,
disgust, contempt, and derisiveness toward any individual, or any normative order,
standing in one’s way.
There is thus a close relationship between active, intentional disregard for the
normative order (normlessness1) and the resulting anomic state of mind (anomie1).
There is nonetheless a distinction between the individual’s normless orientation
to the social world (a willingness to ruthlessly manipulate and potentially cause
suffering to others, in order to attain one’s desires and ambitions), and the passions
that are released in service of these ends. These cognitive–affective sentiments,
which Durkheim, rather vaguely, referred to as “passions,” find expression in spe-
cific emotions. Durkheim posited that the key emotions of anomie are anger and
disgust; in terms of contemporary emotions theory, these can be described not as
passions but rather as externally focused sociomoral emotions.

Passive, unintentional normlessness2–anomie2

Passive, unintentional normlessness2

A different kind of normlessness, normlessness2, can obtain when individuals are
unsure of which norms to follow. This uncertainty can be due to moral dilemmas,
 Normlessness, anomie, and the emotions 77
incompatible cultural or ethnic memberships, or a lack of moral clarity following
acute or gradual social change in economy, polity, theology, or domestic life that
undermines established value systems. Thus, in addition to active, intentional dis-
regard for the norms of proper conduct, Durkheim also described circumstances in
which the normative order is not disregarded but is rather not clearly understood.
This can occur when tumultuous, or gradual, social and cultural changes generate
considerable normative heterogeneity or present moral uncertainty. In such situa-
tions, individuals can be perplexed, suffer ambiguity and instability in the moral
order; experience loss of a job or a valued social bond; suffer oppressive conditions
of war or conquest; endure a norm-weakening national disaster; or be exploited,
victimized, or perceive they are being harmed or humiliated by contemptuous,
derisive practitioners of the cognitive-affective sentiment, normlessness1–anomie1.
Thus, when norms of proper behavior have become unclear, confusing, non-
binding, or even incomprehensible, there is “uncertainty about what behavior is
appropriate in various social situations” (Jessor et al. 1968:102). Neal and Collas
(2000:122) observe that “Normlessness derives partly from conditions of complex-
ity and conflict in which individuals become unclear about the composition and
enforcement of social norms . . . and the norms that usually operate may no longer
seem adequate as guidelines for conduct.” This moral uncertainty occurs where
“the conditions of life are changed” and “the standards according to which needs
were regulated can no longer remain the same” (Durkheim [1897] 1960:253).
Under these unstable social conditions, Durkheim ([1897] 1960:253), with some
exaggeration, wrote:

The scale is upset; but a new scale cannot be immediately improvised. Time
is required for the public conscience to reclassify men and things. So long as
the social forces thus freed have not regained equilibrium, their respective
values are unknown and so all regulation is lacking for the time. The limits
are unknown between the possible and the impossible, what is just and what
is unjust, legitimate claims and hopes and those which are immoderate.

Anomie2
Durkheim’s broad definition of morality permitted him to stretch the concept,
anomie, to include affect-laden states of mind arising where norms are not so
much deliberately transgressed as they are in flux, even chaotic, and subject to
unintentional violation. Under trying, distressing, and possibly confusing circum-
stances, individuals can become prone to develop an affect-laden state of mind
wherein they experience a range of emotions (and consequent behavioral propen-
sities) which are quite distinct from those of anomie1; these therefore can be seen
as a second kind of anomie, anomie2, a distinction not drawn by Durkheim. But
what are these emotions? Durkheim’s classification linked anomic suicide to the
affective states “irritation, disgust,” “agitation,” and “exasperate[ion].” But these
appear to describe emotions of anomie1. The only emotions Durkheim discussed
that can reasonably be linked to the proposed more passive kind of anomie2 are
78 Emotions basic to alienation
disappointment and sadness. Identifying the specific emotions of anomie1–2, an
obvious next step, requires a closer look at Durkheim’s linkage of emotions to
suicide and at a useful model of how emotions are classified in emotions research.

Emotions in Durkheim’s social types of suicide

Durkheim had sought to causally link “morphological” types of suicide (egoistic,
altruistic, anomic) to actual procedures of suicide (hanging, shooting, drowning,
etc.), but was “surprised and disappointed” at being unable to establish any such
linkages (Gane 2005:232). In a departure from his own Rules of Sociological
Method, Durkheim (1895) next linked types of suicide to affective states, using
observations from historical accounts, literary fiction, and made-up dramatiza-
tions and illustrations. He saw egoistic suicide performed with “apathetic” emo-
tional detachment; altruistic suicide, with “cool reserve”; and anomic suicide,
with anger, disgust, and disappointment. Durkheim’s classification (in Table 6.1)
also described “secondary emotional characteristics” of the three pure and three
mixed social types of suicide shown in Table 6.1. For anomic suicide, Durkheim
described the “secondary” affect as “violent recrimination” (Durkheim [1897]
1960:293). Upon attributing these affective states to types of suicide, Durkheim
further identified these as the driving causal force of suicidality. With this theoreti-
cal model, Durkheim was “beginning to work with a sociology of social emotions”
(Gane 2005:234).
The affective states of mind Durkheim linked to egoistic and altruistic suicide,
namely disillusioned apathy, and calm but energetic feelings of duty, respectively,
are “highly specific emotional states” (Gane 2005:232). Yet, “disillusioned apathy”
and “energetic feelings” are not emotions and, by the standards of contemporary
emotions theory, are far from “highly specific.” However, the states of mind Dur-
kheim attributed to anomic suicide – “irritation” (anger), “disgust,” and “disap-
pointment,” are specific emotions, and therefore can be incorporated in the models
of anomie1 and anomie2 proposed below.
Despite Durkheim’s tentative forays into a sociology of emotions, his rationale
for linking anomic suicide, and anomie in general, to the emotions disgust, anger,
and disappointment, is problematic, for three reasons:

(i) Durkheim was focusing on anomie, in general, whereas different kinds

of anomie involve different emotions. While the three emotions (anger,
disgust, disappointment) are indeed implicated in anomie, they cannot
all be placed in the same subtype of anomie. We rather propose that,
while anger and disgust are emotions basic to anomie1, disappointment
belongs to anomie2.
(ii) Anger and disgust are primary emotions, but disappointment is a secondary
emotion, a mixture of surprise and sadness; this presents a problem of
classification (see below).
(iii) We will see that both subtypes of anomie involve emotions not identified
as such, or even mentioned, by Durkheim. For anomie1, these additional
 Normlessness, anomie, and the emotions 79
emotions include the primary emotion joy–happiness and the secondary
emotions contempt, pride, and derisiveness; anomie2 additionally includes
the primary emotions fear and surprise, and the secondary emotions shame
and alarm.

Pursuing Durkheim’s project, we propose a more complex model of the emo-

tional basis of anomie. As our first step, we identify a sufficient inventory of basic
or primary emotions, provide a justification for combining these emotions, and
interpret the resultant mixtures as higher-order emotions.

Ruthlessness and the emotions of active, intentional anomie1

Normlessness1–anomie1-infused individuals can be understood both cognitively
and by the prominence of certain complex emotions embedded in their person-
alities and character structures. These strong, externally focused emotions form
the affective basis of anomie1. Contemporary research concerning personality
variables identifies potential antecedents of unethical or immoral (normless-
ness1–anomie1-type) behavior. Durkheim’s model of normlessness1–anomie1 is
close in meaning to the contemporary concept of social dominance orientation
(SDO) (Sidanius and Pratto 1999). This is closely linked to two key second-
ary emotions of anomie, pride and shame. Individuals high on normlessness1–
anomie1 are apt to be “‘ruthless’ in their pursuit of desirable goals” (Wilson
2003:549), and tend to display two pathologies: (i) Their morality is relativistic,
meaning they tend to reject the moral comparability of actions across situations
and actors, including the universality of moral rules; and (ii) their morality
lacks idealism, the belief that one’s actions should never harm others. Seek-
ing advantage in hierarchical social systems, those who seek to establish and
maintain positions of social dominance can take pride in doing so, and can act
to the detriment of those at lower levels, whom they can regard with contempt
and treat derisively. In the analysis to follow, we assume that the reader has an
intuitive grasp of Ekman’s six primary emotions, all six of which play a role in
anomie. Anomie1 is hypothesized to include the primary emotions anger, dis-
gust, and joy–happiness; these combine in a pairwise manner to form contempt,
pride, and derisiveness.
While a number of complex emotions can be associated with normlessness1,
ruthlessness appears to be central. Given that the secondary emotions contempt,
pride, and derisiveness share just three primary emotions, we propose that ruthless-
ness is a tertiary emotion, that is, a mixture of three primary emotions:

Ruthlessness1 = Joy–Happiness & Anger & Disgust

The word ruth (Middle English ruthe, reuthe) means: (i) pity and compassion
for the misery or suffering of another, together with sorrow about such suffer-
ing; (ii) “sorrow for one’s own faults” (Merriam-Webster Dictionary online),
“flaws,” or “misdeeds” (American Heritage Dictionary 1996). It follows from
80 Emotions basic to alienation
the definition of ruth that the adjective ruthless means “feeling or showing no
pity or compassion; . . . unsparing, merciless, remorseless” (Oxford). Charney
(1997:6) described ruthlessness in the cultivation of power as “stepping on other
people entirely regardless of the cost to them.” These definitions do not equate
ruthlessness with selfishness, for unselfish, utilitarian actions can nonetheless be
ruthless, performed for utilitarian motives, and devoid of empathy or compassion.
For normal individuals, the prospect of ignoring others’ feelings, harming others,
or causing others’ loss of competitive position or suffering triggers anxiety and
activates affective brain regions (e.g., Kiehl et al. 2001). Those whose behaviors
and attitudes fall somewhere in the sociopathic spectrum display a utilitarian com-
ponent to their moral judgments (Bartels and Pizarro 2011); they react with low
anxiety and low activation of the emotion systems that typically trigger aversion
to harming others. Some sociopaths experience high anxiety (Newman et al. 1990)
and can be less utilitarian than low-anxiety psychopaths; both are, on average, less
anxious than normal controls when facing moral dilemmas (Koenigs et al. 2012).
The root of sociopathy is the placing of little value on treating others empathically
and indifference to their fate or suffering; this is a cognitive–affective style that is
freely expressed in the absence of anxiety (Perkins et al. 2013:618).
Ruthless individuals, possessed of an angry urge to deride others, can feel an
emotional compulsion “to discriminate against and control a given target group”
(Charney 1997:4). If such individuals are in a position of power, this emotional
predisposition can lead to abuse of subordinates, who suffer “chronic humiliation,
tension” (Charney 1997:4). These effects will not distress the ruthless, whose
mentality compels them to seek to dominate and humiliate others, and to have
failed to internalize, or to otherwise be alienated from, the “moral codes as to
the value and inviolability of other people” (Charney 1997:4). Of course, goal-
striving and power-seeking are normal aspects of human nature; they become
abnormal only if taken to an extreme; where one feels entitled to treat other with
derision, scorn, or cruelty; one is ruthless with respect to the norms regarding
treatment of others.

Contempt
The word ‘contempt’ originated in 1393 from the Latin contemptus, which essen-
tially means regarding with scorn. Behavioral expressions of contempt involve
the behavior of anger, moving toward the object of contempt, yet avoiding direct
contact with what is despised, disdained, and disrespected. Because Durkheim
linked both “irritation”/anger and “disgust” to anomic suicide, we begin with the
combination of these two primary emotions. Plutchik ([1962] 1991:118), with
justification, defined, “contempt = anger + disgust.” In contempt, anger and dis-
gust are present at high levels of intensity. Contempt includes in its meaning an
externally focused feeling of disgust for that which is vile or scorn-worthy. Anger
is also interior to the meaning of contempt, as it is a mental attitude or feeling and/
or action of indignation, in the present case, directed at some aspect of culture or
of social trends or developments.
 Normlessness, anomie, and the emotions 81
In Plutchik’s ([1962] 1991:96–9) model of the primary emotions, rejection
is the core function of disgust. Insofar as disgust, on its sociomoral level, is a
primary emotion characterized by revulsion, withdrawal, and rejection (Hodson
and Costello 2007:691), it follows that the intentionally anomic individual rejects
society’s rules and moral injunctions. Those seeking positions of social domi-
nance are prone to showing prejudice and discrimination against and contempt for
subordinates or for members of lower-status groups such as refugees, immigrants,
foreigners, racial minorities, and socially deviant groups (Guimond et al. 2003). In
contrast to individuals with authoritarian personalities, those with high-SDO are
apt to have little sense of duty (Durkheim’s normative conformity), lack “moral-
ity, co-operation, and sympathy,” and tend to be “nasty” to others (Heaven and
Bucci 2001:55). Normative conformity, or “righteousness,” Altemeyer (2004:100)
asserts, “means little to someone who rejects being guided by moral laws,” and
who believes, “There really is no such thing as ‘right’ or ‘wrong’. It all boils down
to what you can get away with.” Thus, disgust for and rejection of the moral order
of a society or group characterizes the ruthlessly amoral, normless individual.

Pride
In his classification of emotions, Plutchik ([1962] 1991:118; see also TenHouten
2007:57–60, 172–82, 2013b:134–6) reasonably defined “anger + joy = pride.”
Such an expression of pride can be observed, for example, in a group of victori-
ous athletes shouting, “We’re number one!” This definition can be understood by
considering the behaviors and functions associated with these two primary emo-
tions outlined by Plutchik (1983): anger involves moving toward a goal-state, and
removing or destroying obstacles standing in the way of success; joy–happiness
comes from gaining what has been desired, and finding pleasure in having done so.
Pride, then, is the emotion one feels when objectives and goals have been met and
situations have been mastered. Intentionally norm-violating, anomic individuals
with a ruthless orientation to social competition typically experience pride in their
ability to manipulate naïve others; they show disdain for and anger toward anyone
perceived to obstruct their ambitions.
Trait-based pridefulness, as a global, positive appraisal of the self, can function
as a protective factor for suicidal tendencies; it can buffer or counteract the delete-
rious effects of shame, helplessness, despair, and other affective risk factors (Rudd
2006; Bryan et al. 2013). Durkheim ([1897] 1960:248) noted that, for individuals
pursuing infinite or unlimited desires, “our glances behind and our feeling of pride
at the distance covered can cause only deceptive satisfaction. . . . To pursue a goal
which is by definition unattainable is to condemn oneself to a state of perpetual
unhappiness.” Contemporary scholars have observed that an overweening, inau-
thentic sense of pride can be “hubristic” (Tracy et al. 2009) or “neurotic” (Ruotolo
1975), and the distorted self-bias afforded by such pathological forms of pride is
not typically effectively protective; hubristic pride is correlated with neuroticism,
narcissism, and disagreeableness (Bryan et al. 2013:213). Such false pride can be
a “natural and powerful partner” to despair, a state of mind that invents possible
82 Emotions basic to alienation
alternatives to the dreary social world from which the self is estranged (Farber
1976:69). Even though the despairing individual, preoccupied with thoughts of
suicide, feels miserable and humbled, “it is not humility but pride that rules his
imagination in this enterprise” (Farber 1976:68). Thus, while an appropriate level
of pride can be self-protective, either a deficiency or fragility of pride, or a bloated
and hubristic pride, can compromise this basic function of pride.

Derisiveness
Plutchik ([1962] 1991:118) tentatively suggested that, “disgust + joy = morbid-
ness (?)”; this is plausible insofar as the morbid individual finds pleasure in what
others see as disgusting. Morbidness, however, appears to be a socially embed-
ded pathology of character rather than an emotion. Perhaps a better interpretation
of the mixture of disgust and joy, it is proposed here, is derisiveness. This term
comes from the Latin dērisus, the past participle of deridēre (to deride), meaning
“contemptuous or jeering laughter,” and treating another as “an object of ridicule, a
laughingstock” (American Heritage Dictionary 1996). When feeling derisiveness,
ruthless individuals enjoy reducing targeted other individuals’ or groups’ sense of
self-worth, rendering them less able to compete for goals. The behaviors associated
with this externally focused emotion include laughing at, making fun of, ridicul-
ing, and mocking. There is an enjoyment, even a pleasure, in treating others as
objects of disgust. Thus, derisiveness = joy–happiness & disgust. Derisiveness can
range from a mild put-down or joke on another to a mean-spirited effort to harm
or weaken others’ social identities, even to dislodge them from their social group
memberships, social places, or social roles. This can be done instrumentally, to
reduce competition or obstruction of one’s own goals, or it can be done for sadistic
pleasure. When combined with anger, derisiveness can assume a virulent form and
cause the victim’s suffering and loss of self-esteem.

Discouragement and the emotions of passive, unintentional

anomie2
We propose that the emotions underlying the passive, unintentional kind of anomie,
anomie2, are very different from the above. While contempt, pride, and derisive-
ness (and their underlying primary emotions anger, disgust, and joy–happiness)
can be seen as other-directed emotions, the primary emotions of anomie2, we pro-
pose, are Ekman’s other three primary emotions – surprise, sadness, and fear. Thus,
discouragement can be defined as a tertiary emotion:

Discouragement = Sadness & (Anticipation & Surprise).

These three primary emotions, it is proposed, can combine in pairs to form the
three secondary emotions disappointment, shame, and alarm. We begin with
disappointment.
 Normlessness, anomie, and the emotions 83
Disappointment
Plutchik ([1962] 1991:118) proposed that “surprise + sorrow = embarrassment,
disappointment.” Embarrassment, however, is an emotion closely related to, if
not a form of, shame (Tangney 1996; Sabini, Garvey and Hall 2001). It makes
more sense to define disappointment = surprise & sadness; disappointment is felt
when something that was anticipated, intended, or planned does not materialize.
Experiencing either an unexpected loss or the non-occurrence of an expected gain
triggers a feeling of surprise, then sadness, at the loss (TenHouten 2007:78–81).
While disappointment involves a surprising loss or failure of what was antici-
pated to materialize, this is not the case with sadness. As Miceli and Castelfranchi
(2000:238, 2015:70–1, 185–7, 192–3) note, disappointment involves a “negative
expectation,” that is, an unwanted, surprising event.
Durkheim ([1897] 1960:293) did not list disappointment or discouragement in
his “morphological classification” of the affective states of anomic suicide, but
elsewhere in the text of Suicide he referred to these emotional states. He argued
that, to pursue goals that are unattainable is to “condemn oneself to a state of
perpetual unhappiness,” because hope can sustain an individual’s aspirations for
a time, but hopes are dashed “by the repeated disappointments of experience.”
Moreover, Durkheim ([1897] 1960:248, 284) asserted, anomie, “whether progres-
sive or regressive, by allowing requirements to exceed appropriate limits, throws
open the door to disillusionment and consequently to disappointment.”

Shame
The second hypothesized secondary emotional component of anomie2 is shame.
Several emotions researchers have declared shame to be a primary or funda-
mental emotion (Tomkins 1963:118–481, 385–419; Izard 1977:90–2; Heller 1985;
Scheff 2015). No researchers have suggested other primary emotions that might
possibly join shame to define potential resultant secondary or tertiary emotions.
Plutchik proposed a secondary emotional combination, “fear + disgust = shame,
prudishness.” Prudishness would appear to be a personality or character trait rather
than an emotion. It is proposed here that shame = fear & sadness. Turner (2010)
sees shame as a tertiary emotion, whose components are fear, sadness, and anger.
While anger can be induced by the experience of shame, it does not, however,
appear to be interior to shame; analyses of shame link it to anger, considered as
a separate emotion, as for example in shame–rage cycles (Scheff 1991), wherein
shame and anger are interdependent yet are clearly distinct emotions.

The fear component of shame

To interpret the mixture of fear and sadness that comprises shame, we first consider
fear. Both guilt and shame involve fear. Guilt involves fear that one has violated
norms of proper conduct, fear that one has caused another harm, or fear of retribu-
tion or punishment. Shame rather involves fear of negative evaluation, reproach, or
84 Emotions basic to alienation
condemnation of the self by others. Just as achievement contributes to pride, failure
can result in shame. Individuals high in fear of failure report greater shame upon a
perceived failure than those low in fear of failure (McGregor and Elliot 2005). Fear
is a basic emotional reaction whose behavioral concomitant is withdrawal, avoid-
ance, flight, and hiding, as if one had disappeared from society itself (Mascolo and
Fischer 1995). The fear interior to shame can be seen in shame-driven behavior,
which involves looking down or away from the gaze of others (Keltner, Moffitt and
Stouthamer-Loeber 1995). It includes a desire to ‘hide’, to ‘crawl under the rug’,
and to engage in various other forms of what Plutchik sees as the core behavior
of fear, namely “running, or flying away” from (Plutchik 1980:289), disappearing
from, or escaping the psychological pain of a shame-eliciting situation (H. Lewis
1971:196–250). Shame is typically hidden, and this hiding involves concealment
of one’s shame, or the anticipation of future shame, from the self.

The sadness component of shame

While shame is a normal emotion, an adaptive reaction to a perceived disapproval
by self or others, a global feeling of shamefulness becomes pathological. Expression
of sadness is a natural reaction to the perception of devaluation or disrespect of one’s
self by others and can potentially contribute to depression (which typically involves
anger). The connection between shamefulness and depression often goes unnoticed
or is described by indirect terminology. As Morrison (1989:119) observes, “because
depression is so observable whereas shame so frequently remains hidden, this relation-
ship has not been emphasized, and the elements of shame frequently have remained
unexplored.” Michael Lewis (1992:143) observes that with repeated instances of
shame (which result in a more global shamefulness), the sadness involved in loss of
perceived self-worth advances to depression. A number of theorists have shown that
depression: (i) emerges from internal attribution of failure, “having to do with the self’s
faults”; (ii) is “global, having to do with the whole self”; and (iii) is “stable, consistent
over time.” Thus, sadness–depression is “an element of shame” and “is not a conver-
sion of shame but an accompanying emotion.” Moreover, Lewis maintains,

When individuals experience shame in a particular situation, they show behav-

ioral characteristics of a sad person. They gaze avert, hunch their shoulders up,
push their bodies inward, become inhibited, and show problems in thinking.
From an expression point of view, these people appear to be sad.
(1992:144)

Sadness, Lewis continues, occurs around unacknowledged shame. While the self
does not admit shame, shame’s sadness component can emerge in consciousness
with the realization that others have caused one harm, or that one possesses a
deformed self. Feeling this sadness, the harmed individual focuses on the social
conditions of the harmful situation and the elicitors of the emotion rather than on
the shame itself. Lewis further suggests that sadness is more comfortable to expe-
rience than shame, so only the sadness is acknowledged, and is projected into the
social encounter rather than back onto the self.
 Normlessness, anomie, and the emotions 85
Alarm
We have defined disappointment as a mixture of surprise and sadness; shame,
as fear and sadness. This means our final secondary emotion must be a mixture
of surprise and fear. Plutchik’s ([1962] 1991:118) definition, “surprise + fear =
alarm, awe” is defensible. Setting aside awe (until Chapter 9), we simply define
alarm = surprise & fear. Alarm is an adaptive reaction to danger, pain, and the
prospect of social estrangement (Eisenberger and Lieberman 2004). More gener-
ally, it is an affective signal of response to aggression or other potential dangers
including violations of and threats to one’s selfhood, reputation, and territory.
Such an orienting response defines surprise and is interior to alarm; the individ-
ual’s self-protective reaction to the impending threat or challenge is definitive of
fear. Plutchik sees the combination of surprise and fear as the primary ingredients
of alarm. Plutchik ([1962] 1991:118; see also TenHouten 2013b:144–7) defines
aggression as a combination of anticipation and anger (e.g., a planned attack);
given that the opposite of anticipation is surprise and the opposite of anger is fear,
it follows that alarm is the opposite of and a reaction to aggression. Alarm is an
individual’s or group’s reaction to a threatening situation. Alarm, according to
its French derivation all’arme, means ‘to arms’, as it is an arousing to meet, and
hopefully repel, an attack.
For Durkheim ([1897] 1960:391), high suicide rates were an alarm signal for
society, a sign of social pathology. He concluded that the abnormal development
of suicide in advanced countries, together with general unrest, are manifestations
of “the state of deep disturbances from which civilized societies are suffering, and
bears witness to its gravity.” For the individual, the “presuicidal syndrome” is a
state of mind that functions as an alarm signal indicating a tendency to suicide.
This syndrome is characterized by constriction, inhibited aggression turned toward
the self, and suicidal fantasies (Ringel 1976). The definitional models of the affec-
tive bases of anomie1–2 are illustrated in Figure 6.1.

A. Emotions of active, intentional anomie1 B. Emotions of passive, unintentional anomie2

Contempt Pride Alarm Shame

Anger Fear

Ruthlessness Discouragement
Disgust Joy–Happiness Surprise Sadness

Derisiveness Disappointment

Figure 6.1 Primary and secondary emotions of two kinds of anomie

86 Emotions basic to alienation
Two causal models
Causal models linking normlessness, anomie, and their behavioral consequences
are shown in Figure 6.2. The ordering of these variables is consistent with Dur-
kheim, who had situated affective states as “intermediate facts, inserted between
causes [in the normative order or lack thereof] and the individual’s suicide [and
other behavioral consequences]” (Gane 2005:234). At least four issues pertaining
to these models must be addressed.
First, for expository purposes, both models show a directed arrow from norm-
lessness to anomie. This aspect of the models must be interpreted with caution.
Especially for normlessness1–anomie1, it must be acknowledged that the willful
kind of normlessness is interior to anomie. It is the essence of anomie1 to eschew
rules and norms and to act in a predatory manner, seeking one’s self-interest and
social aggrandizement with scant regard for the rights and welfare of others. Dur-
kheim was careful to exclude cases of mental illness from his analysis of suicide,
but the practitioners of normlessness1–anomie1, while neither insane nor irrational,
can be seen, in terms of contemporary understanding, as characterologically dis-
ordered, possibly narcissistic or sociopathic. Such individuals have an active kind
of anomie, and while their activities are guided by instrumentally rational consid-
erations, these cognitions are complemented by adaptive emotions, hypothesized
to include pride, contempt, and derisiveness. In normlessness2–anomie2, there is
rather a cognitive passivity and a likely cognitive confusion, which is reinforced
with emotions of surrender. In this second case, there is more justification for

A. A model of active, intentional normlessness1 and anomie1

Premeditated
Contempt Pride Derisiveness homicide

Shamelessness

Active, intentional Behavioral Immorality

normlessness1
Anomie1 consequences

Acquisitiveness

B. A model of passive, unintentional normlessness2 and anomie2

Unpremeditated
homicide
Disappointment Shame Alarm

Suicidality

Passive, unintentional Behavioral

normlessness2
Anomie2 consequences
Depression

Confusion

Figure 6.2 Causal models for two kinds of normlessness–anomie

 Normlessness, anomie, and the emotions 87
the directed arrow from normlessness2 to anomie2; being confused or befuddled
by changes (be they acute or chronic) which undermine the normative order and
one’s valued meaning systems can indeed trigger emotional reactions of shame,
disappointment, and a defensive sense of alarm.
Second, if the present models are correct, then anger and disgust are not linked
to suicide as a behavioral outcome, but disappointment is. Shame is undoubtedly
a key emotion in suicidality, but here it is seen as one of three secondary emo-
tions of anomie2. Shame, however, is not modeled as an emotion of anomie1;
shamelessness is rather a proposed behavioral outcome, together with an uncaring
ruthlessness and indifference to injuring others.
Third, we note the distinction between homicide and suicide, which were com-
bined in Durkheim’s preliminary classification of the secondary affective states of
anomie. Anomie1 contains at least one emotion, pride, which, in a non-pathological
form, can provide protection against suicide. The opposite of pride, shame, rather
contributes to suicidality (as shown in Figure 6.2.B). The linkage between the ruth-
less form of anomie and shamelessness dates to the Greek goddess Anaideia, who
embodied the spirit of ruthlessness, shamelessness, and unforgiveness.
And fourth, the distinction between two kinds of normlessness–anomie suggests
an expansion of Durkheim’s general theory of homicide. Contradictory versions
of Durkheim’s (1897, 1900) theory of homicide appear in the criminology litera-
ture (Messner 1982; DiCristina 2005) and it is beyond the scope of this chapter to
resolve these interpretations. However, Durkheim (1897, [1900] 1992:119) con-
cerned himself primarily with homicide as an intentional, unpremeditated, impul-
sive act “inseparable from passions,” as opposed to premeditated or prearranged. If
there are two levels of anomie, we might expect normlessness1–anomie1 to be most
closely related to premeditated, calculative murder and normlessness2–anomie2, to
unpremeditated, passionate murder.

Discussion
Many scholars (e.g., Thorlindsson and Bjarnason 1998; Bearman and Moody
2004; Stack 2009; Abrutyn and Mueller 2014a–c) have explored the social con-
tagion of suicidality; they have elaborated Durkheim’s conceptualization of the
“imitation” of suicide, finding that suicides or suicide attempts of fictional charac-
ters, celebrities, friends and relations, and, especially, role models, can enhance the
probabilities of suicidality among affected individuals. But what are the emotional
experiences of those who are suicidal?
For an individual, shame, arguably the key emotion of anomie2, can stimu-
late other emotions such as intense anger, feelings of rejection (seeing oneself
as an object of disgust in the eyes of others), as well as sadness; this can lead to
the possibility of spontaneous, violent behavior (Lansky 1991), even against the
self. Abrutyn and Mueller (2014c:346) have associated “repressed or bypassed
shame + anger” to anomic suicide, and the present theoretical model suggests that,
while shame and anger (alone, or embedded in contempt and/or pride) belong to
different kinds of anomie, these emotions may be linked in either interpersonal
88 Emotions basic to alienation
or intrapersonal dynamics. This raises the speculative possibility that aggressive,
ruthless, anomie1-type behavior can contribute to anomie2 in affected others, with
possible self-destructive consequences. It is also plausible that anomie2 could
lead to the development of anomie1 in the same individual, perhaps enhancing the
possibility of simultaneously engaging in violence that is both internally focused
(suicidal) and externally focused (murderous).
Abrutyn and Mueller (2014c) associate shame with a sudden loss of status and
the regulative consequences for self-respect reflected in the disapproving eyes of
others (Mokros 1995; Lester 1997). The loss of community, job, close others, or,
more generally, one’s place in the social world all can contribute to shame and
have been linked to anomie (Poblete and Odea 1960). One problem with the link-
age of shame to anomie has been the vagueness of the varied meanings attributed
to the concept, anomie. Shame, defined as a secondary emotional mixture of fear
and sadness, can be pathologically absent in anomie1, where individuals pursue
their desires and wishes to attain positions of social dominance without regard for
others, acting in a shamelessly non-normative, even immoral, manner. It is rather
the passive, discouraged, fearful, saddened individual who experiences shame as
interior to the experienced sense of anomie. The individual experiencing anomie1
feels not shame but pride, yet the etiology of anomie1 could indeed involve deep
experiences of shame. While Durkheim excluded mental illness from his analysis
of anomic (and other forms of) suicide, a fuller understanding and exploration of
anomie1will have to consider both narcissism and sociopathy.
Pride and shame can be seen as opposites: if fear and anger are opposites, and
sadness and joy–happiness are opposites (see Plutchik 1962), then the angry joy of
pride is the opposite of the fearful sadness of shame. This distinction is important
for theory and research linking anomie to violence as extreme as homicide and
suicide; while the pride associated with anomie1 might contribute to (especially
premeditated) homicide while offering protection against suicide, the shame asso-
ciated with anomie2 might contribute to the outward projection of violence, while
increasing the propensity toward self-directed violence, at the limit, to suicidality.
The relationship between the two levels of anomie thus importantly hinges on
the dynamic relationship between pride and shame. In the most pathological cases,
there is an essential “pride system” (Ruotolo 1975). If this system is initially weak
and becomes destabilized, the pride system can collapse, potentially resulting in
a paroxysm of violent behavior. Underlying such compromised pride is a sense
of shame, which can be accompanied by feelings of self-contempt and a fear of
ridicule or derision. A neurotic “pride system,” threatened with an overpowering
feeling of shame, can connect the two levels of anomie. A doubly anomic indi-
vidual who lives in fear of being treated with contempt or derision (attributes of
an individual high on anomie1) and, filled with a sense of inferiority and grandiose
fantasies about attaining impossible goals, will cling to an unstable “pride system”
(Ruotolo 1975). This dynamic of pride and unacknowledged shame can form a
potentially explosive mixture. Indeed, many individuals who commit homicide
are themselves subject to suicidal ideation and behavior (Klinger 2001; J. Murray
2015). Durkheim’s concept of anomie thus recommends study not just of shame
 Normlessness, anomie, and the emotions 89
and suicide, but of the dynamics of pride and shame, and of suicide and homicide.
In discussing suicide, Durkheim ([1897] 1960:61; see Ruotolo 1975 for examples)
made brief mention of a pathological form of pride in which the patient believes
himself called upon to reform not only religion but also to reform society, and
might imagine a lofty destiny reserved for himself. Preoccupied with religious
ideas, this individual will believe himself lost, destined to perish. Durkheim asso-
ciated this “secondary” variety of the affective aspect of anomic suicide not only
with suicide but also with homicide, to “homicide–suicide.” Durkheim ([1897]
1960:341) was well aware of the close relationship between the violent acts of
homicide and suicide; he saw suicide as “a transformed and attenuated homicide”
and claimed a “psychological unity of the two phenomena.”
The key emotional ingredients of anomie1 and anomie2 appear to be the oppo-
site secondary emotions, pride and shame, respectively. Durkheim described the
nature of human passions and their unlimited contribution to social striving for
resources, success, and status. While this claim must be qualified, it is clear that,
in contemporary ethological terminology, that Durkheim was describing social-
dominance motivation. It is now well-established that dominance motivation in
animals underlies the emotions of pride and shame in humans (Weisfeld 2002;
Cheng, Tracy and Henrich 2010; J. Clark 2013). Durkheim was correct in linking
dominance motivation to norms and values, to what Weisfeld (2002:201) calls
“the urge and ability to protect, communicate, and advance one’s standing by
the multiplicity of values that guide human behavior.” Dominance–subdominance
behaviors in primates bear strong parallels to the human competitive expressions
of pride and shame. Pride, the core emotion of dominance motivation, requires
an intact limbic orbitofrontal cortex. Bilateral damage to this brain region results
in unconcern with reputation and status and a decrease in feelings and emotions.
Following such damage, the experience of pride is disorganized; these patients
(i) neglect their occupations and other paths to social standing; (ii) manifest fac-
tiousness and social insensitivity (reduced capacity for shame) (H. Levin, Eisen-
berger and Benton 1991); and (iii) engage in behavior that is boorish, impolite, and
unrestrained, which includes neglect of appearance together with lying, cheating,
and boasting. This suggests the existence of a pride–shame system that can be dam-
aged due to brain trauma, to psychopathologies such as narcissism and sociopathy,
or to situations in which the normative order can be intentionally or inadvertently
violated. The result of such breakdown of this pride–shame system can lead to
severe and intractable behavioral disorders which, at the extreme, can involve
internalized or externalized violence.
In modeling the affective basis of our hypothesized two kinds of normlessness–
anomie, we have defined six secondary emotions. In the process, we have seen
the necessity of modifying Plutchik’s (1962) provisional classification of the sec-
ondary emotions (shown in Table 5.1). Plutchik’s definitions of contempt (anger &
disgust) and pride (anger & joy–happiness) is used just as he proposed. Two of his
definitions are reduced: we set aside awe in defining anxiety (as surprise & fear,
and exclude embarrassment from the definition of disappointment (as surprise &
sadness). We reject two of Plutchik’s definitions and instead provide original
90 Emotions basic to alienation
definitions of derisiveness (joy–happiness & disgust) and shame (fear & sadness).
Of course, it is possible that other primary (and secondary) emotions could be
involved in either level of anomie.
Durkheim must be credited with contributing to “morphological” classification,
which involved both anomie and the emotions. Yet, Durkheim and Mauss ([1903]
1963:86–7), just six years after Suicide, had reached the remarkable conclusion
that all social classifications are ultimately based on sentiments. They asserted that
the “emotional value of notions . . . is the dominant characteristic in classification.”
At the same time, they lamented, “States of an emotional nature . . . mingle their
properties in such a way that they cannot be rigorously categorized.” It is ironic
that Durkheim made such a felicitous beginning to his classificatory effort, only to
later decide that emotions are simply too complex and interrelated to be classified.
Just as Marx, after his Paris Manuscripts, had abruptly abandoned the concept of
alienation, so also Durkheim abandoned the microsociological concept of anomie,
which after brief mention at the beginning of his 1900 Professional Ethics dropped
out of his work entirely (see Marks 1974:333). Indeed, Durkheim shifted from a
concern with individuals’ socioaffective experiences to a macrosociology of the
overall normative and moral order of society; he endeavored to engineer the mac-
roproblem of anomie out of existence, primarily through education. Durkheim’s
focus turned to the opposite of anomie, “the spirit of discipline,” or nomos, which
he approached from a macrosociological perspective (Durkheim 1925).
7 Self-estrangement and despair

Any substantively interesting notion of self-alienation . . . is conceptually bound

up with some idea of self-realization supposed to be worth achieving – and so of
some sort of self taken to be worth having, and of some sort of life . . . worth living.
– Richard Schacht (1994:145)

Introduction
Alienation implies the experience of separation, from a person, object, or social
situation. Perhaps the most profound level of alienation is estrangement from one’s
self. The modern individual’s experience of ‘self’ can range from a sound sense
of clear personal identity, meaningful purpose, and committed involvement in
work and social life to the loss of self and state of inauthenticity, futility, discon-
tent, depersonalization, or dissociation. In his seminal work on alienation, Seeman
(1959:789–90) calls this negative condition “self-estrangement,” and includes it
as one of his original five varieties of alienation. Seeman (1972:473) notes the dif-
ficulty of defining self-estrangement, and suggests a three-part definition: (i) “the
failure to satisfy postulated human needs”; (ii) “to be engaged in activities that are
not rewarding in themselves”; and (iii) “the individual’s sense of a discrepancy
between his ideal self and his actual self-image.”
We expand Seeman’s foundational tripartite definition of self-estrangement to
include (iv) losing touch with one’s authentic self or feeling that one is inhabit-
ing a false self; no longer knowing what constitutes one’s genuine self; (v) losing
access to memories of affect-laden biographical episodes, and more generally, to
the events, experiences, and processes that the self has lived and aspires to sustain
into the future; and (vi) sensing a need to conform to sociostructural, sociorela-
tional, or role requirements that cause or motivate the self to suppress or abandon
the goals, agendas, and desires that give purpose and meaning to life.
We propose that, at the extreme, (i) self-estrangement can potentially result in a
state of existential despair. (ii) Despair, as a painful and distressing affective state
of mind, has as its basic emotional components sadness, disgust, and surprise.
(iii) These three emotions can combine in pairs to form the secondary emotions
disappointment, loneliness, and shock. (iv) The primary–secondary emotional
combinations (disgust–disappointment, surprise–loneliness, sadness–shock) form
pathways to despair.
92 Emotions basic to alienation
Self-estrangement and the primary emotions of sadness,
disgust, and surprise
Self-estrangement is not an emotion, yet it appears to involve the primary emo-
tions of sadness, surprise, and disgust. We first consider sadness. All six defining
criteria of self-estrangement (three from Seeman, three added here) involve loss;
sadness is the prototypical affective reaction to loss of, or failure to possess, what
is valued or desired (Plutchik 1983). The self-estranged individual experiences
sadness upon perceiving (i) a failure to satisfy fundamental human needs; (ii) an
inability to engage in activities that are intrinsically rewarding; (iii) a sense that
the actual self is not the ideal or moral self to which they aspired; (iv) a loss of a
true, or authentic, self, or the sense that one possesses a false self; loss of knowl-
edge of what one’s true self might be; (v) a loss of memories of biographical
episodes that have been significant to one’s life and formation of one’s present
self; and (vi) a loss of a feeling of self-efficacy; a concomitant need to adhere to
social constraints and social demands (Kavanagh and Bower 1985) and to sup-
press or abandon meaningful future goals and desires. Extremely sad individuals
can experience diminished self-esteem, self-criticism, or negative self-evaluation
(A. Beck 1976), and/or they can engage in self-blame over failure to accomplish
goals (Ickes and Layden 1978). A self-estranged person experiencing sadness can
be described as feeling miserable, melancholic, despondent, and gloomy and can
suffer unendurable pain. In extreme cases, this intense sadness and sensation of
loss can be relieved only by abandonment of the self.
The second emotion involved with self-estrangement is hypothesized to be dis-
gust, an emotion of withdrawal, disaffiliation, or recoil from some object, condi-
tion, or situation perceived to be unpleasant or toxic. In self-estrangement, the
estranged self is seen as repugnant and undesirable. Here we consider disgust not
as an elementary, visceral reaction to repulsive or contaminated material, but rather
as a sociomoral emotion triggered by a person, behavior, or condition seen as aver-
sive, degraded, or polluted. The self-estranged individual experiences disgust and
a feeling of disaffiliation upon perceiving that (i) one’s actual self is significantly
inferior to the self that one has aspired to become and/or has been profaned by
putative failure to adhere to societal standards; and (ii) one is inhabiting a false,
inauthentic self, seen as unpleasant or distasteful both by oneself and/or by oth-
ers. The disgust component of self-estrangement can be internalized to engender
self-loathing. If disgust is accompanied by a perception that one is unpleasant and
unattractive to others, social identity can erode. The individual who experiences
self-estrangement can also externalize their disgust and see the human world as
immoral and unlivable; social encounters can represent a source of contamination
or be perceived as corrupted, boring, and morally disgusting.
The third emotion involved with self-estrangement, we propose, is surprise.
Plutchik (1983) identifies territoriality as one of four existential problems.
Surprise is the adaptive emotional response to violations of territorial bound-
aries conceptualized generally. Boundary defense sustains one’s fundamental
resources, including one’s social identity. Surprise is thus a defensive reaction to
 Self-estrangement and despair 93
the realization that one is dissociated from one’s self, or that one does not possess
an authentic self; surprise is a reaction to a perceived or implicit assault on one’s
authentic self (Goodenough 1997). If one’s self is degraded, thwarted, or becomes
inauthentic, the self experiences deterioration or self-estrangement. Loss of the
self’s place in the world involves two of Seeman’s criteria of self-estrangement:
(i) Given that self-integrity is a basic human need, self-estrangement implies
a “failure to satisfy . . . [a] postulated human need,” and (ii) the occurrence of
surprise, the resource-defending emotion, is a condition that is the opposite of
“engaged in activities . . . that are rewarding.”
The territory of the ‘self’ includes not only one’s socially constructed social
identity but also one’s body. If one’s sense of identity becomes disorganized, frag-
mented, or estranged from itself, a dissociation of body representation can occur.
In the extreme cases of the self-estranged, despairing, even suicidal individual,
the body can be experienced as a “prison house” to which one is “confined”; it
can be experienced as “a crowded tenement where others press in,” or even “an
alien chamber into which evil spirits or monsters penetrate and crowd out the self”
Maltsberger (1993:149). From this perspective, the despairing individual, bent on
self-harm or even suicide, can vengefully attack the body that is experienced as an
enemy or as a “disposable self-part” (Maltsberger 1993:149).

Despair: its depth and episodic nature

An individual who has experienced self-estrangement, and whose social iden-
tity has been deeply degraded, can have an emotional experience that is highly
negative, painful, and refractory to cognitive-level management or control. This
pathological experience of self can transform into a state of despair. Despair is a
deep emotion, where depth means “proximity to the self” and “being experienced
by the whole of our being” (Cataldi 1993:173). In an analysis of political alien-
ation, Citrin et al. (1975:4) observe that, in comparison to mere dissatisfaction,
alienation “runs deep” and indicates “a state of mind sufficiently disturbed to
predispose one to deviance, suicide, protest, revolutionary activity and so forth.”
Given that self-estrangement is the variety of alienation that arguably runs deep-
est, it is unsurprising that its affective basis, despair, also runs deep. Despair is
experienced not as a background sentiment, mood, or feeling, but rather as an
acute emotion, whose intensity can peak when one’s situation appears hopeless
and there is overwhelming experience of negative emotionality. Because despair
is such deep and intensely felt emotion, we refer to the ‘depths’ of despair. Max
Scheler’s (1913–16) “depth stratification” included despair, together with bliss, as
the deepest emotions. Despair and bliss addressed “the core of the person.” Scheler
([1913–16] 1973:343–4) explained that

We can only ‘be’ blissful or in despair. We cannot in the strict sense of the
word, ‘feel’ bliss or despair . . . nor can we even feel ‘ourselves’ to be blissful
or in despair. . . . [T]hese feelings are not expressed at all, or they take pos-
session of the whole of ourselves.
94 Emotions basic to alienation
Long the subject of poetry, theology, existentialism, phenomenology, and ontol-
ogy, despair has become topical in contemporary scientific fields including psy-
chiatry, psychology, emotions research, affective and cognitive neuroscience, and
the behavioral and social sciences (Pannese 2011). Yet, the meaning of despair
remains vague and is generally assumed. Brittney Beck et al. (1974) have devel-
oped a scale to measure despair that distinguishes suicidally depressed individuals
from the non-suicidal; however, they conceptualize despair broadly, as synony-
mous with pessimism and hopelessness. Maltsberger (1986) sees the subjective
experience of despair as having two parts: (i) the individual is episodically flooded
with painful, even intolerable or unendurable emotions; and (ii) the individual,
recognizing his or her condition, gives up. Our next task is to develop a hierarchi-
cal model of despair as a specific emotion.

Despair as a tertiary emotion

We have seen that self-estrangement is linked to three negatively valenced pri-
mary emotions – sadness, disgust, and surprise, and we have linked extreme self-
estrangement to despair, an affectively deep and distressing emotion. We define
despair as a combination of three primary emotions. Formally,

Despair1 = Sadness & Disgust & Surprise.

Each of these three primary emotions can combine with a secondary emotion
comprised of the other two primary emotions. We argue that the resulting primary–
secondary mixtures form three different pathways to despair: (i) disgust can com-
bine with the secondary emotion disappointment (formed from the mixture of
surprise and sadness); (ii) surprise can combine with loneliness (the mixture
of sadness and disgust); and (iii) sadness can combine with shock (the mixture of
surprise and disgust). These three hypothesized primary–secondary emotional
pathways to despair are consistent with literatures linking self-estrangement and
despair. We begin by considering the first pathway to despair, the combination
disgust–disappointment.

The disappointment of experiencing rejection/disgust

Given our initial definition of despair1 as a tertiary emotion, we expect that its
primary component, disgust, can combine with the secondary emotion disap-
pointment, formed from surprise and sadness. Disappointment is a subjective
response following a surprising experience that occurs when something favorable
that was anticipated, intended, planned, or hoped for does not materialize; this is
experienced as a saddening loss, or a saddening failure to gain. We substitute the
definition, disappointment = surprise & sadness, into the formula for despair1,
to show that,

Despair2 = Disgust & Disappointment.

 Self-estrangement and despair 95
A large literature explores the relationship between disgust and despair. In his
theory of psychosocial development, Erik Erikson ([1950] 1963:269) saw that
despairing individuals, possessing only an insufficient sense of social belonging
and lacking the time that would enable them to find life satisfaction, experience
“a thousand little disgusts.” Drawing on Kristeva (1982), Adams (2011:333) links
self-disgust to the “abject self,” which she describes as “self-states of relentless
despair” in which individuals feel unlovable, unworthy, and utterly unbelieving
that their situation can ever improve (Adams 2011:333). Despairing persons are
depressed about disappointments, failures, and missed chances in life. In describ-
ing members of a despairing group, Hearn et al. (2012:2) observed a pattern of dis-
appointment, resignation, and ineffectiveness. The individual in a state of despair
rejects social involvement partly in order to avoid social life’s normal and inevi-
table disappointments. This recipe for despair is described by Craib (1994:168),
who characterizes the “false self” of late modernity as a “disappointed self” insofar
as efforts to establish a social identity on the basis of social roles and social catego-
ries is bound to be incomplete. Disappointment has been exacerbated by processes
of modernization, with its future orientation, so that major disappointments, when
combined with giving up or seeing no way forward, can lead to despair and the
fragmentation of the self (Craib 1994:4–6, 75; see also Michaelis 1999). The self-
estranged individual experiences disappointment with the self. The individual is
disappointed at perceiving a false, not authentic, self and the self’s inability to
attain desired goals, meet social obligations, and perform role requirements. In
short, self-estrangement involves an extreme level of disappointment with the self.
While despair can include disappointment, there is a difference between them.
When one is disappointed, one’s anticipated, virtual world is seen as unattainable
or unactualizable. One despairs in the face of an inexorable threat impeding an
ongoing project, making it impossible to attain a desired future: “When disap-
pointed one loses a virtual world; when in despair one believes that one’s ongoing
world has been lost” (Goldsmith 1987). Disappointment is milder than despair,
for in despair the world becomes menacing and unbearable, so that disappoint-
ment comes to be augmented by a rejection of and disgust with a world that has
become unlivable.

A collapse of territory: surprise and loneliness

Our second pathway to despair is the combination of surprise and the secondary
emotion loneliness, formed from the mixture of sadness and disgust. Loneliness is
typically associated with an absence of attachment figures, a sense of not belong-
ing, and a deficiency, disruption, or loss of close social relationships (Cacioppo
and Patrick 2008). Here, for the self-estranged individual, loneliness attends the
absence of the true self. Sadness is closely related to loneliness (Brage, Meredith
and Woodward 1993). The self-estranged individual is sad over its lost self, its loss
of contact with the self, and its inability to project the self into the future. Also
associated with loneliness is a sense of being unattractive, which can mean social
undesirability or even a feeling that one is an object of disgust (Borys and Perlman
96 Emotions basic to alienation
1985). Plutchik ([1962] 1991:118) stated that “sorrow + disgust = misery, remorse,
forlornness.” This definition is not incorrect, but loneliness is a broader concept,
and includes feelings of misery, remorse, and an overall forlorn state of mind.
Thus, a simpler formulation is offered: loneliness = sadness & disgust/rejection
(TenHouten 2007:111). When a valued relationship is terminated at the initiative
of a significant other, sadness will be felt at the loss together with a feeling of not
being acceptable or attractive, or even of being rejected and adjudged unattractive,
possibly feeling undesirable, and at the extreme, feeling that one is repellant or
disgusting to another or others. By replacing ‘Sadness & Disgust’ with ‘Loneli-
ness’ in Despair1, another pathway to despair can be inferred:

Despair3 = Loneliness & Surprise.

The despairing, lonely individual is apt to have lost the social support of close
others, that is, experienced a contraction of social territory. The resultant intense
mental pain can become intolerable and lead to suicide (Shneidman 1993:51–7).
In their study of suicide-prone young adults, Everall, Bostik and Paulson (2006)
found that a salient feature of every participant’s experiences was the theme of
overwhelming despair; the suicidal state was described as one of misery, hope-
lessness, gloom, and emotional pain. Many study participants characterized their
despair as a lack of social belongingness and described themselves as unimportant
members of their families. Despair became the lens through which the world was
interpreted. Loneliness has been widely seen as a contributing factor in adolescent
suicidality (Stravynski and Boyer 2001). Crane and Ino (1987) linked despair to
the illusory communications of lonely hearts columns, wherein individuals adver-
tise themselves in objective terms, not unlike advertisements for used cars.
The loneliness of social and physical isolation can create despair among prison-
ers in solitary confinement (Toch [1975] 1992:48–54, 118–30). Despair appears
to be an intervening variable between social isolation and suicide; when one lacks
satisfactory personal contact with others, one feels “the despair of being alone”
(Hacker 1994:313) and is unable to regulate the negative affect associated with
aloneness (Maltsberger 1986) and feeling separated from the social world (Yalom
1980). Unsuccessful interaction and attachment-disorganized relationships with
others (see, e.g., Solomon and George 1999) can condense moments of yearning
and feelings of acute vulnerability into complex enactments of abject suffering, a
global state of despair.
In despair, there is a place for surprise (the emotions of boundary defense) and
loneliness. But how are these two emotions related in the experience of despair?
Insight into this subtle relationship is provided by Farber, who saw that the despair-
ing individual’s world has become filled with stale, tedious, lifeless routines from
which he or she yearns to escape, a state of tedium vitae (W. Miller 1998:28–31),
wherein the unexpected and the mysterious nature of coincidence have vanished
from view, if not from experience. If a visit with friends is contemplated, it is no
longer possible to imagine such an interaction offering even momentary relief
(Farber 1999:197). Thus, no reason can be seen for even making such a visit,
 Self-estrangement and despair 97
no reason for seeking conversation. If by chance an unexpected social interac-
tion occurs, even with a stranger, and the despairing individual can somehow cut
through his or her self-absorption, he or she will disown or conceal the moment
rather than question his dismal certainty, cagily protecting this state of mind from
life’s intervention. Even if the despairer finds moments of relief in exposure to the
real world, there is a good chance that the certainty of his despairing logic and
prescriptive maxims will soon reassert themselves, so that submission to despair
is again activated, and the despairer seeks once again to sever remaining world-
binding relations (Farber 1999:198). There is thus a linkage between loneliness
and boundary defense (a reluctance to being ‘open’ to interactions with another).
Rather than relaxing one’s defenses and opening one’s heart through talking about
despair, the despairer will rather defiantly maintain silence.1 This in itself adds
depth to one’s despair, as there is an agonizing self-contradiction of being in the
hopeless situation of needing the help of a confidant yet not being able to be
with one (Gee, Loewenthal and Cayne 2011:323). The individual who is driven
to construct barriers to exposure to real relationships with others succeeds only in
insuring his or her own social isolation; this combination of surprise and loneliness
almost guarantees the experience of despair.

A shocking, saddening loss

Our third primary–secondary emotional combination joins sadness/loss to the
mixture of surprise and disgust; we define shock as an unexpected and revolting
or degrading experience that we define as shock. We first consider sadness and
loss. Plutchik (1983) identified ‘temporality’ as one of four existential problems,
and hypothesized that joy–happiness and sadness–grief are positively and nega-
tively valenced primary emotional reactions to gain and loss. Plutchik did not
elaborate what he meant by ‘temporality’, but the existential problem of tempo-
rality can be sociologically generalized to include in its meaning the limitation
of time. In the normal experience of time, an individual’s temporality is stretched
into both the past and the future (Heidegger ([1927] 1996:423). If this range of
temporal experience is degraded or lost, the result is a life encapsulated in a pres-
ent so narrowed that it is nearly empty. As Steinbock (2007:449) puts it, for the
despairer, “Through the experience of being abandoned to myself, I experience
being abandoned to the present,” such that “[n]either the future nor the past offers
anything to the present.”
Consider the pathology of the past in despair. As the individual experiences
loss of the self, it can be apprehended that life chances are slipping away, so that
as memory begins to falter, time past isolates itself as an alien, often perverse,
accomplice that refuses memory’s overtures, so that “what cannot be remembered
robs us of goods that seem rightfully ours” (Farber 1999:193). The past we thought
we owned when it was in the present, that we would continue to own in the future,
now eludes us; this represents a loss of part of the self, a form of self-estrangement.
Those who lose some of their memory might be gripped by a torrent of guilt
and shame for past sins and misdeeds. This unhappy mixture of forgetting and
98 Emotions basic to alienation
remembering creates a rift between the despairing self and the self who had previ-
ously dwelt in the social world.
The self-estranged, despairing individual, perhaps lacking the necessary resources
for productivity and creativity, unable to seek goals or anticipate future potentiali-
ties (Erikson 1950), has also lost his or her future. Self-estrangement means living
without authenticity, without what Winnicott (1965) calls a “true self.” The future is
the nexus of authenticity, insofar as individuals project themselves into the future and
strive to become what they might, which Shahar (2011) call “projectuality.” Without
a future of meaningful possibilities into which to project oneself, the self-estranged
individual risks sinking into a state of despair. It can be enlightening to have, through
exertion, the past and the present “compressed” in a heightened experience of the
present (TenHouten 2005b:70, 85–6, 116–17, 185). But if the past is being lost and
the future is beyond one’s concern, then life in the present is experienced as a kind
of ‘mindlessness’; little effort is made to notice or be involved in the world. This
kind of detachment has been linked to accidents, poor job performance and burnout,
interpersonal difficulties, health problems, and memory loss (Langer 1998). For the
self to have a future means anticipation, even a yearning, for something good to
come, that is, to have desire. The self-estranged individual will develop an inability
to desire or to imagine anything good in the future (Hernández-Tubert 2011:28).
Shock is an affective reaction to an incomprehensible, surprising event that is
unacceptable, even disgusting, and which diminishes one’s personal and/or social
identity. Plutchik ([1962] 1991:118) offered no definition of the mixture of disgust
and surprise, but it has been proposed that “disgust & surprise = shock” (Ten-
Houten 2007:88–90). Shock, in Webster’s New World Dictionary (1988), means “to
disturb the mind or emotion; affect with great surprise, distress, disgust, etc.,” and
“to be shocked, distressed, disgusted”; shocking includes in its meaning “extremely
revolting” (Oxford), which clearly corresponds to the emotion of disgust.
Despair can result from unfortunate, traumatic experiences which share “their
suddenness and unexpectedness” (Koch 2000:301), that is, their surprisingness.
Many traumatic events involving a sudden and unexpected loss induce shock in
an individual, leading to a reaction of despair. Examples of saddening, shocking
events include an accident resulting in a paralyzing spinal cord injury (Lohne
2009); the unexpected death of a spouse (Carr 2004); a traumatic late-term preg-
nancy loss (Cowchock et al. 2010); an emergency amputation of a cancerous leg
(Judd 2001); the realization that an intimate other’s disgust-inducing betrayal
has resulted in a traumatic disappointment (Tribiano 2002); and the loss of one’s
hoped-for presidential candidate in a U.S. election (Classen and Dunn 2010).
Shocking events can be both unexpected or misexpected and difficult to com-
prehend and accept; they are typically not only surprising but also inconsistent
with one’s model of the world. In the case of the self-estranged individual, shock
is experienced upon realizing the loss of the self, past, future, and social world.
Using the definition, surprise & disgust = shock, it follows by substitution into
our initial definition, despair1, that

Despair4 = Sadness & Shock.

 Self-estrangement and despair 99

Loneliness Shock

Disgust

Despair
Sadness Surprise

Disappointment

Figure 7.1 Proposed primary and secondary emotional components of the tertiary emo-
tion, despair

In despair, the self’s capability, or the self’s autonomy and control, is lost. The
explosive activity of the despairing individual is apt to “persist until the despairer’s
excesses become so outrageous . . . that a sudden and shocking perception of his
own behavior plunges him to real self-loathing” (Farber 1999:204). Upon being
shocked by one’s own self-destructive behavior, the self’s despair can no longer
go unacknowledged. The possibility of personal renewal and self-illumination
might arise; but if this possibility eludes the self-estranged individual, “he will now
discover that this self-loathing has landed him in the bleakest, most naked realm
of despair” (Farber 1999:204).
We have now defined the three secondary emotions that can emerge from the
mixtures of the three primary emotions and discussed the three primary–secondary
pathways to despair. This definitional hierarchy is displayed in Figure 7.1.

Consequences of self-estrangement and despair

Our models of self-estrangement and despair, and a review of the literature, sug-
gest several pathological consequences of despair. In addition to suicidality, we
also consider logicality, alexithymia, a feeling of emptiness, collapse of temporal
experience, and hubristic pride.

Excessive reliance on logic

Farber (1999:200) argues that despair is apt to be repressed, encapsulated, or
masked by logical-sounding generalizations about the human condition, the exis-
tence or non-existence of God, or the consequences of suicide. The despairer’s
100 Emotions basic to alienation
forced logic becomes hyperactive, as he or she desperately tries to keep fears and
doubts from the conscious mind. The despairing mind invents its own creed and
embraces its own willfulness; striving to answer existential, yet sometimes absurd,
questions on the level of thought alone, it is prone to pursuing a tortured logic, in
which, for example, the idea of being the author of one’s own death “exercises a
demonic and seductive fascination” and promises “a secret and cherished solution
to any difficulty life may throw across his path” (Farber 1976:66).
The despairer’s reliance on logic has been linked to the division of labor between
the human brain’s right and left cerebral hemispheres (RH, LH) (of the typical
right-handed adult). Recent neuroscientific research supports an emotions–valence
theory, according to which approach-oriented basic emotions (e.g., anticipation,
happiness, anger) are left-lateralized; and negative, withdrawal-oriented emotions
(e.g., sadness, disgust, surprise), right-lateralized (Davidson et al. 1990; G. Lee
et al. 2004; Balconi and Mazza 2010). In the RH, the experiences of negatively
valenced, primary emotions are polysemantic, multidimensional, and elusive. The
RH tends to be more sorrowful than the LH, and prone to depression, in part
because it is more in touch with the social world and feels more empathy, and
sympathy, for others’ suffering and pain (Davidson 1994). Sadness enhances the
experience of pain (Yoshino et al. 2012) and contributes to RH dysfunction (Liotti
and Tucker 1992). We have argued that sadness is a reaction to a degraded experi-
ence of time and temporality, and it is well established that the appreciation of time
as lived, with a past, present, and future, depends on the RH. Following RH dam-
age, this depth, or stretching of time, and sense of duration is thus lost (McGilchrist
2010:76–7); the experience of time is limited to a before–now–after sequencing
of static points, that is, to a linear time-consciousness that no longer captures the
flow of motion through time as a phenomenological experience.

Alexithymia
The combinations of sadness, disgust, and surprise generate an anguished, pain-
ful state of mind. These emotions of despair, together with difficulties in affect
regulation, can contribute to a self-destructive process which decreases the RH’s
ability to function and, in extreme cases, can lead to what Weinberg (2000a)
calls a “collapse” of RH functioning. Without a functioning RH, the individual
has impaired ability to engage in the complex social functioning necessary for a
socially constructed self. While ‘collapse’ might be too strong a term, the hypoth-
esized emotions of despair are at least encapsulated insofar as they do not find
representation in the LH, which is not well informed about the RH’s experience
of distressing emotions. According to interhemispheric transfer deficit theory,
the individual becomes alexithymic (lacking feelings for words), as verbal pro-
cesses become flat, uninvolved, concrete, and deficient in symbolism and creative
expression2 (Kaplan and Wogan 1976–7; Hoppe and Bogen 1977; TenHouten
et al. 1985a, 1985b, 1986; Hoppe 1989; Parker et al. 1999; TenHouten 2006;
Romei et al. 2008). Interhemispheric transfer deficit theory might better have been
named ‘interhemispheric transfer inhibition theory’, because the corpus callosum
 Self-estrangement and despair 101
(which can transfer information from RH to LH) contains a significant proportion
of neurons playing an inhibitory role, including inhibition of strong, negative emo-
tions’ interference with LH functioning.3 This was shown in corpus callosotomy
(‘split-brain’) patients (whose cerebral commissures had been surgically severed
as a treatment of last resort for drug-refractory epileptic seizures). These patients’
LH-dependent word production, lacking input from the RH, experienced less than
a normal range of negative affect (TenHouten et al. 1985a, 1985b), a limitation of
expressiveness that involves both primary emotions such as sadness and disgust,
and more complex emotions such as hatred, shame, and jealousy. One patient, for
example, described spousal infidelity in a flat, descriptive manner, showing no hint
of jealousy (Hoppe and Bogen 1977). The encapsulation of the RH’s affect leads
to a LH-dominant mode of cognition that is in itself self-referential, as the LH
primarily deals with the world it has made for itself (McGilchrist 2010:42). When
the RH deteriorates, experiences dysfunction, or suffers damage, there is a loss of
ability to ‘capture’ connections between what is ambiguous and polysemantic; this
prevents a holistic and mosaic representation of reality. Because the RH is open
to the interconnectedness of things, it enables identification with others; with RH
dysfunction, the lack of a holistic grasp degrades empathic understanding of and
sympathetic concern for others’ welfare (Decety and Chaminade 2003:591) and
representations of one’s self and body image (Joseph 1996). The RH is the seat of
self-representation, as it enables a multiplicity of interconnections among various
self-representations articulated with emotion-laden personal experiences. A domi-
nant, even overarching, function of the RH is to generate a sense of an emotional
and physical self, including an awareness of one’s corporeal being and its rela-
tions to the environment and others’ affective states (Devinsky 2000; for a review,
see Keenan et al. 2000).4 Evidence shows that during suicidal states of mind,
individuals demonstrate a LH-oriented approach to reality, determined mainly by
monosemantic, logical operations that do not allow ambiguity and contradiction,
and search for clear-cut solutions to logical problems.

Emptiness
To feel abjection is to plunge into a black hole of meaninglessness and non-
existence; this is not only a feeling of emptiness but an “implosive, centripetal
pull into the void” in which one despairs of being helped or soothed; in despair
“the experience of abandonment is ultimate and decisive” (Grotstein 1990:257).
As an affective element of self-estrangement, despair involves a loss of territory
insofar as it is an emptying out of the self, a theme elaborated in phenomenology
and psychiatry. Contemporary researchers have linked intense despair, as a feel-
ing of emptiness and lack of a meaningful future, to boredom. Blauner (1964:26)
observes that when work does not express workers’ abilities, personalities, and
potentialities, but is rather self-estranging, “boredom and monotony” can result.
The despairing individual who is bored with life can, in turn, bore his or her
psychiatrist (Bergstein 2009). Boredom is a reaction to a hidden, encapsulated
part of the psyche, in which mental activity has been suspended and experience
102 Emotions basic to alienation
has become meaningless. This is a ‘place’ in the mind where unexplained, uncon-
scious emotions are contained, impeded from being cognized or finding expres-
sion. The self-estranged individual experiences a psychic emptiness, and “cannot
live in a condition of emptiness for very long; if he is not growing toward some-
thing, he does not merely stagnate; the pent-up potentialities turn into morbidity
and despair” (May 1953:24). Even in survey research, despair is measured in
terms of emptiness. Carr (2004:601), for example, measured despair by three
items: (i) “life seemed empty,” (ii) “I felt empty inside,” and (iii) “I felt life had
lost its meaning.” In despair, one’s self experiences the loss of its very being and
is engulfed by a sense of non-being.
It is well documented that despairing, suicidal individuals are not cogni-
tively or behaviorally open to unusual, multi-dimensional, challenging, and
personally meaningful new experiences. Losing concern with the world, the
despairing, self-estranged individuals lose spontaneity and become “dead to
the world”; the “primal springs of vitality have dried up, as if he were empty
or hollow at the very core of his being” (Hendin 1975). Rather than actively
engaging the world, the despairing individual becomes closed-minded and
detached from social life.

Hubristic pride
The despairing, self-estranged individual is one whose self is estranged from itself,
who cannot establish and maintain a stable identity; significant affects are encap-
sulated in the psyche (and the RH). The self-estranged despairer’s social world
becomes constricted to the point of social isolation or social alienation such that
the level of estrangement from family, peers, community, or society is so great
that a search for meaning becomes impossible. Wherever a deeply self-estranged
individual goes, he or she cannot shed despair, and participates in social situations
only in a stilted and artificial way; the despairing individual avoids meaningful
interactions with others, and in some cases claims a disability or disorder that jus-
tifies self-absorption. Filled with a false pride that blocks true humility, those in
despair can turn to the logic of their now-isolated will and become concerned with
certainties; even the certainty of hopelessness may paradoxically appear as a form
of hope, promising to make reasonable what is unreasonable, namely, hopeless-
ness itself. The despairing individual clings to thoughts of suicide as a potential
act that expresses power and claims a clear vision that condemns the world. But
these thoughts, while logical on the surface, cover over an absurd repression of the
harsh truth about his or her life.
An overweening sense of pride is thus apt to be a “natural and powerful partner”
to despair (Farber 1976:69). While the despairing individual is preoccupied with
thoughts of suicide and feels miserable and humbled, “it is not humility but pride
that rules his imagination in this enterprise” (Farber 1976:68). The individual is
prone to developing grand fantasies about migrating, perhaps to a Tibetan mon-
astery, a cabin in the woods, or a desert island. Far from being an authentic pride,
this is a hubristic pride (Tracy et al. 2009).
 Self-estrangement and despair 103
Discussion
Beginning with a six-part definition of self-estrangement, we have developed a
model of despair as its key tertiary emotion as involving three primary–secondary
‘pathways to despair. This summary model is shown as Figure 7.2. Despair is a
powerful, negative, anguishing, overwhelmingly painful emotion, but it is also a
pathology of cognition; consequently, despair is more fully characterized as an
affective-cognitive sentiment than simply a complex emotion. The individual in
despair who is also suicidal can utilize every new event, encounter, or experience
to confirm and expand the suicidal state of mind (Alverez 1972). The world of the
despairing, suicidal individual is ever constricting; the individual loses cognitive
flexibility, the capability of regulating affects, and a cohesive self-representation
(Weinberg 2000a:808).
We proposed that the emotions sadness, surprise, and disgust, which comprise
the affective basis of self-estrangement, can combine to form pathways to despair.
To develop and maintain a viable self and to confront loss of a true self, one must
interrogate one’s own emotions, including negative ones. When the self experi-
ences intensely negative emotional states, it can experience a threefold collapse:
of one’s temporal experience and community involvement (the source of sadness),
of self-representation or self-image (the source of disgust), and of resources and
territory (the source of surprise). The self-estranged individual has developed a
non-cohesive self-representation and undergoes self-disintegration. Several psy-
chopathologies are associated with catastrophic disintegration of the self, includ-
ing narcissistic vulnerability (Apter et al. 1993), the development of a fantasy
double or companion (K. Seeman, Widrow and Yesavage 1984), distorted body
representation (Joseph 1996), schizophrenia (Toch [1975] 1992:122), multiple-
personality disorder (Putnam et al. 1986), borderline personality disorder (Gard-
ner and Cowdry 1985), and a generally alienated and negative attitude toward
the self and the world (Weinberg 2000a:804). When self-estrangement leads to

Disgust and Surprise and Sadness and

disappointment loneliness shock

Unsatisfied human needs

Logicality
Unrewarding activities
Alexithymia
Ideal-real self discrepancy; Self-
a disrupted moral faculty Despair Feeling of emptiness
Estrangement
Experience of a false self Collapsed temporality

Hubristic pride
Biographical memory loss
Self-harm, suicidality
Over-conformity, loss of
meaningful goals

Figure 7.2 A conceptual model: causes of self-estrangement, primary–secondary pathways

to despair, and selected consequences of despair
104 Emotions basic to alienation
a despairing disintegration of the self, it can result in suicide. The possible role
of despair as an intervening variable between self-estrangement or non-cohesive
self-representation and these pathologies is a topic for future research and theory.

Notes
1 This silence can also be imposed by others, as in the case of prisoners in solitary confine-
ment, which many regard as a “nether-world of despair” (Abu-Jamal 1995:12).
2 One aspect of the commissurotomy syndrome is a lack of creativity, as creativity requires
an integrated effort involving the resources and contributions of both sides of the brain
(Bogen and Bogen 1969). Bogen (1969) found, in addition to dyscopia (inability to copy
a figure) in their right hands (and LHs) of commissurotomy patients, a dysgraphia (inabil-
ity to copy words) in the left hands (and right hemisphere). TenHouten (2011) found that
while these patients could write with their right hands (and LHs), the handwriting they
produced lacked creative aspiration and creative organization, which was interpreted as
an ‘expression dysgraphia’ of the right hand.
3 While the majority of cells projecting to the corpus callosum are excitatory (using the
facilitating neurotransmitter glutamate), there are significant populations of inhibitory
nerve cells (using the neurotransmitter gamma-amino butyric acid, or GABA); even the
excitatory fibers are apt to terminate on intermediary neurons (‘interneurons’) whose
function is inhibitory (Conti and Manzoni 1994).
4 There is clearly a right-hemisphere preference for self-recognition. Recognition of
one’s own face requires the work of the right prefrontal cortex (the right inferior frontal
gyrus) (Keenan et al. 2000). The right inferior parietal lobe, together with frontopolar
and somatosensory regions, are critical for distinguishing self from other (Ruby and
Decety 2004). A number of deficits in self-awareness, including delusional misidentifi-
cations, have been linked to right-hemisphere disorders of self-awareness (see Feinberg
and Keenan 2005). Included in the many pathologies of mind following right hemisphere
damage and dysfunction are a “reality monitoring defect” (Johnson 1991) and a “belief
evaluation system defect” (Coltheart, Langdon and McKay 2011).
8 Meaninglessness,
ressentiment, and resentment

Introduction: meaningfulness and meaninglessness

This chapter investigates meaninglessness, one of Seeman’s (1959, 1972) five
varieties of alienation. We link it to the closely related concepts of ressentiment
and resentment. These two affective phenomena represent adaptive reactions to
perceived unjustified suffering, the experience of losing power and position, and
feelings of relative deprivation. Meaningfulness connotes making sense, coher-
ence, and order out of some event, phenomenon, the social world, or the totality of
one’s life. Interpreting one’s existence as meaningful signifies being able to com-
prehend how and why events occur, achieving a sense of purpose, having goals
toward which one can strive (Reker, Peacock and Wong 1987), noting and under-
standing one’s accomplishments, and sensing that these have importance beyond
oneself. Seeman (1959:786) provides a succinct definition of meaningfulness (and,
conversely, therefore, of meaninglessness) as “the individual’s [lack of a] sense
of understanding [of] the events in which he is engaged.” Seeman further charac-
terizes meaninglessness as “a low expectancy that satisfactory predictions about
future outcomes of behavior can be made.” Meaninglessness therefore connotes
senselessness, or the perception that events in the social world occur in seemingly
mysterious or incomprehensible ways that defy causal analysis or even mundane
understanding. In everyday speech, meaninglessness means “without importance
or purpose” or “without value” (Erwin 1970:3). Purpose means that one’s current
activities will have an effect on future outcomes, while value means that one’s
actions are assessed as morally good and correct. Baumeister (1991) suggests that,
besides purpose and value, a feeling of efficacy or a sense of having the ability to
mobilize resources in order to control important life outcomes, or make changes
in an individual’s or group’s situation, is essential to prevent meaninglessness
(H. Smith and Kessler 2004:301). A “will to meaning” is an innate human neces-
sity. Frustration of this “will to meaning” can engender a deep rage, self-hatred,
and a “bitter resentment toward life” (Diamond 1996:29).
Several areas of social life can cause an erosion of one’s meaning and value
systems. Chief among these has been the industrial workplace, where employ-
ees might not comprehend how their activities are integrated with the overall
work process (Marx 1932; Blauner 1964:22–4; Bacharach and Aiken 1979:855).
106 Emotions basic to alienation
Meaninglessness is particularly prominent where workers produce only a narrow
fragment of the final product, and it can be expressed through absenteeism and
worker turnover. Participation in or engagement with corporate, governmental,
and bureaucratic organizations can also produce feelings of meaninglessness.
Individual employees or office holders can inhabit roles that do not integrate or
seem essential to the organization’s overall functions. Some technical processes
might appear opaque to employees whose highly specialized positions prevent
understanding the organization’s overall mission or objective. Even managers can
be burdened by ‘red tape’ and bureaucratic procedures, and consequently experi-
ence this form of meaninglessness (DeHart-Davis and Pandey 2005). Beyond the
workplace, individuals can experience meaninglessness within their community,
larger society, or culture, if they are unable to comprehend or participate in signifi-
cant events or if they sense that they are unable to anticipate, predict, or influence
future outcomes.

Meaninglessness, suffering, ressentiment, and resentment

The English word ‘resentment’ derives from the Old French recentement (1300)
and the Middle French ressentiment (1613), meaning a true recollection or recall of
an earlier-experienced feeling or sentiment of any kind, including affective states
such as joy, sorrow, and grateful appreciation (Oxford: meaning 2a). These earlier
meanings are obsolete, for resentment no longer refers to reexperienced sentiments
in general, but only to negative sentiments relating to grievances, injuries, patterns
of unfair treatment, unfulfilled or frustrated desires, and, most generally, unjusti-
fied suffering at the hands of another or others. The affective states associated with
resentment include ill will, bitterness, and anger (Oxford: meanings 1a–c).
Eighteenth-century sentimentalists and moral philosophers came to distin-
guish ‘gratitude’ and ‘resentment’, seeing resentment as a noxious emotion and
an “unsocial passion” (Adam Smith [1759] 2000:44–51). Smith linked resent-
ment to hatred, indignation, and vengefulness directed to insolent or empowered
persons who have wrongly inflicted injury upon the self or others with whom one
sympathizes or identifies. Smith ([1759] 2000:49) noted that resentment is a dis-
agreeable and undesirable passion that poisons one’s happiness. Yet, Smith also
conceptualized resentment as a moral sentiment capable of motivating a forceful
behavioral response to wrongdoing, provided it is moderated by a sense of mercy,
and excludes savage revenge. If its consequences are what an impartial spectator
would consider fair, it can be considered a guardian of justice and a component of
self-defense against possible violence to the self by others in one’s society.
Hume (1748) analyzed resentment using concepts of scarcity and selfishness as
conditions of justice. He considered social equality and inequality, and the senti-
ments such social conditions engender. He argued that social inequality becomes
a felt source of injustice only for societal members who are roughly equal. When
treated unequally, these individuals feel resentment and possibly contemplate
revenge against the perpetrators of their suffering. When individuals are power-
less, and their resentment is sublimated and kept from consciousness, it will fail
 Meaninglessness, ressentiment, resentment 107
to lead to action and instead generates a helpless feeling. Only if resentment is
forceful, and the resentful have sufficient power and willfulness, can they success-
fully voice and act upon their interests and grievances (see Baier 1980:136). Hume
([1748] 1986:180) argued that the helpless and forceful forms of resentment are
distinguished by societal members’ ability to make the powerful feel the effects
of their resentment; moreover, “[a] sense of injustice is a sense, not of hopeless
resentment, but of forceful resentment.” It is the negative meaning of resentment
that has prevailed; the distinction between its helpless and forceful manifestations
remains topical in sociomoral philosophy and social theory.
Resentment today is typically defined as a reactive feeling of bitterness, indigna-
tion, displeasure, or ill will toward some condition, behavior, individual, group, or
other agent. It is seen as an affective reaction to an another’s freely willed action
that is wrong, insulting, offending, injurious, or unjustified (Strawson [1974]
2008:6–11; B. Turner 2011; Oxford: meaning 1a). We first consider the helpless
kind of resentment, which is linked to both meaninglessness and powerlessness
and is a reaction to unjustified suffering. We then consider forceful resentment,
wherein the resentful individual endeavors to seek an end to suffering and punish-
ment for the agent held responsible for one’s suffering.
Lévinas (1998; see also Minkkinen 2007) argued that there can be no rational
meaning in extreme suffering, and to hold that useless suffering can serve a higher
good is morally repugnant. In his later phenomenology of suffering, Lévinas
refuted its rationality by describing it as evil, passive, and meaningless. Moral phi-
losophers have argued that, in light of the Holocaust and countless other atrocities,
any theodicy, whether providing a natural or supernatural justification for extreme
suffering, is, in itself, evil. Any justification of one’s neighbor’s pain is a source of
immorality. As Lévinas argued, it is meaningless to be subjected to extreme suf-
fering without resentment. The only meaningful suffering, Lévinas (1998:91–101)
argued, is the pain associated with the recognition of ethical responsibilities toward
others (for Lévinas, the supreme ethical principle), a burdensome responsibility
that can potentially undermine compassion. Meaningless suffering can produce
resentment in both directions; those who are exposed to the experience of extreme
suffering will resent those who make them suffer, and those who witness such suf-
fering can resent their ethical obligation to feel compassion and pity and even to
intervene (White 2012:119). Nietzsche ([1887] 1956:170–3, 185–6, 205–8, 262–5)
noted the absurdity of suffering, and denounced the sentimentality of Christian
ethics (and utilitarian morality), which attribute meaning to suffering. Nietzsche
([1887] 1956:200) exclaimed: “What makes people rebel against suffering is not
really suffering itself but the senselessness of suffering.”
Nietzsche (1887), in On the Genealogy of Morals, linked both meaninglessness
and powerlessness to resentment, using the French term ressentiment (perhaps to
demonstrate his European social identity in contrast to Hegel’s nationalism, or out
of the Enlightenment vogue for all that is French). Ressentiment, for Nietzsche,
involved the repeated experience and reliving of a negative emotional state felt by
some individual, group, or category of persons seen as having inflicted an injury,
or otherwise made one suffer, together with hostility, frustration, and a thirst for
108 Emotions basic to alienation
revenge which cannot be directly expressed. For Nietzsche, the attainment of effi-
cacy and power engenders meaning; the lack or loss of power, a collapse of mean-
ing: The suffering of defeat or loss of status generates an explosive, dangerous
affect, which deadens the tormenting, secret pain. Nietzsche ([1887] 1956:iii.15)
called this state of mind ressentiment.
Ressentiment is a deep and long-lasing sentiment. As used by Nietzsche, it sug-
gests a sense of weakness or inferiority, together with feelings of hostility and
malice directed at whomever or whatever is seen, accurately or not, as causing
suffering and associated frustration. Ressentiment can become a savage affect
resulting in involvement in extremist ideologies, belief systems, and social move-
ments, including fascism (Adorno 1950), proto-fascism (Berlet 2006), McCarthyism
(Trow 1958), racism (Lowenthal and Guterman 1949), apocalyptic prophesies
(Berlet 2011), conspiracy theories (Katyal 2003), and right-wing populist anti-
elitism (Berlet 2011).
Ressentiment can simultaneously act to satisfy the craving for a narcotic that
can mask the pain of having one’s system of meaning imposed upon or appear to
have suddenly vanished. Essentially, Nietzsche saw ressentiment as an adaptive
reaction motivated by “a desire to stun pain” (Morgan [1941] 1965:150). Ressenti-
ment is a potential source of energy, but this raw energy is typically not directed
at the real source of one’s incapacity; it rather finds expression on other levels,
including changes of ideas and values, a “transvaluation of all values” (Umwertung
aller Werte) (Nietzsche 1895), and by choosing targets for ridicule, spite, malice,
condemnation, or scapegoating, thereby coming to experience overcoming and
meeting a desperate need for a sense of efficacy.
Nietzsche’s analysis of ressentiment began with a distinction between the nobil-
ity and the common people. The hereditary nobility (the ‘masters’) was divided
between those who fought (the ‘knights’) and those who prayed (the ‘priests’),
with the common people being those who worked (the ‘slaves’ or the ‘herd’).
Nietzsche’s ([1887] 1956:i.5) concepts of ‘nobility’ – along with ‘knight’, ‘priest’,
and ‘slave’, were historically situated, both in the ancient world and in medieval
times, but his ‘genealogy of morals’ was far from a rigorous historical account;1
these concepts can more accurately be seen as a social-psychological diagnosis of
character types. All three of these ideal-typical actors are subject to a variety of
alienation. The highly competitive individual, the ‘knight’, is subject to violating
whatever norms of behavior exist that might constrain his behavior, and acting
normlessly, is prone to a kind of anomie accompanied by a ruthless grasp for power
(Durkheim [1897] 1960:257).2 The subordinate, the ‘slave’, has no values of his
own, but rather internalizes those of his master; he or she is subject to a variety
of alienation which Schutte (1983) calls “heteronomic conscience” and links to
envy. Heteronomy, the rule of another, or the state of being ruled or dominated by
another, is the antithesis of ‘autonomy’, which Kant ([1781b] 1997:30, 33, 36–7,
[1785] 1964:37–40, 108–13), drawing on Rousseau (1762b), defined as the true
self, an autonomous moral will determining itself by its own moral laws. It is the
‘priest’ that Nietzsche (1887, 1895) linked to ressentiment. Nietzsche essentially
carried out a social psychology of priests, described as “weak” and “unhealthy,”
 Meaninglessness, ressentiment, resentment 109
and who had been defeated by the “physicality” and “overflowing health” of the
knights, and consequently developed a perverse sense of “impotence” (Nietzsche
[1887] 1956:i.6–7). The priest desires to lead a kind of life he believes is valuable,
which includes political supremacy, but cannot fulfill this aspiration of a “lust to
rule” or “will to power.” The result is a “man of ressentiment,” who must adapt to
the tensions between his aspirations, to which he feels entitled, and his inability
to attain these.3 He can resign himself to impotence, renounce the kind of life he
values most, and accept global failure. Opting for resignation to one’s lot in life,
however, requires a stable scale of values, but in a modern society oriented to the
ideal of progress, all scales of value become transitory, so that resignation becomes
difficult. Or, he can seek revenge as a means of restoring his lost superiority, but
in ressentiment this urge to vengefulness comes to be ‘repressed’, ‘submerged’,
or ‘sublimated’.
Any theology or philosophy that springs from weakness, Nietzsche maintained,
is sure to be decadent, lacking in vitality, and expressing disgust with life in this
world. The priest’s desire for superiority itself becomes repressed. The result can
be a ‘revaluation of values’ that goes unrecognized, being masked by a self-deceptive
imagining that ‘real’ power lies not in political superiority but in spiritual achieve-
ment; the value of political supremacy comes to be replaced with the values of
pity, forgiveness, gratitude, love, and equality (Reginster 1997:291–2). Thus, the
individual in an inferior position and experiencing ressentiment comes to see him-
self as superior “by virtue of the very properties that formerly constituted his infe-
riority” (Elster 1999:175). The display of emotions such as forgiveness and love,
Nietzsche contended, masks a nearly opposite and often unacknowledged senti-
ment of ressentiment, which is saturated with contempt, outrage, malevolence,
and hatred for those who have compromised one’s dignity and challenged one’s
self-respect, so that these inflicted wounds will be neither forgotten nor forgiven.
This devaluation of power and self-efficacy, however, continues to be motivated
by a repressed desire to generate power. If power cannot be generated in one way,
other ways will be tried in an effort to avoid the collapse of meaning (Nietzsche
[1887] 1956:iii). For Nietzsche, “loss of meaning is precisely the situation where
life is unable to engender power” (Bowles 2003:13). For the priest who has been
overcome, who has lost his high position, and is fueled by ressentiment, power
can find manifestation in two ways: (i) by enjoying the bit of power than comes
from doing good deeds; and (ii) in order to deaden the pain, by brutalizing, tortur-
ing, and killing those they can control, justified by accusations of evil thoughts or
deeds: The Catholic Inquisition, from the mid-12th to early 19th centuries, stands
out as one historical example (Bethencourt 2009); witchcraft persecutions, from
the mid-15th to late 17th centuries (J. Demos 2008), is another. Those who suffer
a loss of power can find a narcotic in inflicting suffering on others.4
Max Scheler ([1912] 1961:46–7) saw the concept of ressentiment as encompass-
ing several affective states, including hostility, aggressive impulses, indignation or
anger, rancor, envy, malice, and a desire for revenge. While Scheler emphasized
the emergence of ressentiment among those holding lowly positions in status hier-
archies, this affect-laden phenomenon extends to those who have been subjected to
110 Emotions basic to alienation
suffering and brutalization, such as victims of political crimes. Auschwitz survivor
Jean Améry ([1966] 1980:77) held that, while ressentiment is a negative state of
mind, the victim can use it as a sociomoral justification for remaining alive, “in
order that the crime become a moral reality for the criminal, in order that he be
swept into the truth of his atrocity.” Améry offered this view as a counterweight to
contemporary advocacy of reconciliation, pardon, and forgiveness following mass
atrocities. Some societies that have experienced atrocities against subdominant
groups make efforts to ensure that history does not repeat itself, but they can also
be prone to seek obliteration of the past. Fassin (2013:253) recalls an inscription
tagged on a wall in Johannesburg, South Africa: “As if nothing ever happened.”
It is only ressentiment, Améry contended, that stands in the way of forgiving and
forgetting the past. Whereas Nelson Mandela and Desmond Tutu were men of
reconciliation, South African politician Thabo Mbeki is a man of ressentiment,
for whom the history of apartheid and the suffering it wrought should never be
forgiven or forgotten. Forgiveness, if it comes, would not be unilateral, and crimi-
nals would exhibit signs of repentance. A white South African might feel anger and
resentment toward the criminals who exploited apartheid to torture, rape, and kill
black South Africans. But he or she could not feel ressentiment, for this requires
having been subjected to inferiorization, stigmatization, or violence. Thus, “Res-
sentiment is more than an affect: it is an anthropological condition related to a
historical situation of victim – a description that does not suit the ordinary experi-
ence of resentment” (Fassin 2013:256).
Ressentiment is based on a feeling that one is undeservingly losing or has lost
the superior or even equal social position to which one is entitled, and where (i)
an aspiration which is repressed has been denied; (ii) an inability to acquire these
desires is not accepted; and (iii) one becomes vulnerable to mistreatment. As res-
sentiment, this involves not only resentment but also envy, vengefulness, shame,
and self-contempt (Reginster 1997:296). As Nietzsche’s ([1883–91] 1978:ii.7)
Zarathustra exclaimed:

You preachers of equality, the tyrannomania of impotence clamors thus out of

you for quality: your most secret ambitions to be tyrants thus shrouds them-
selves in words of virtue. Aggrieved conceit, repressed envy . . . erupts from
you . . . as the frenzy of revenge.

Resentful individuals who profess acting according to altruistic values are subcon-
sciously motivated by wishes and desires that are incompatible with such values.
Nietzsche ([1895] 2005:5, 12, 36, 40, 58, 61) expanded the meaning of ressenti-
ment by applying it to the entire Judeo-Christian tradition. He saw in this theology
a rejection of the acceptance of life, of temporality, and of well-being, beauty,
power, enjoyment, passion, and self-approval. The strong individual, Nietzsche
argued, does not seek meaning in changelessness, certainty, and uniformity, but
rather finds value in change, uncertainty, variety, and the experience of power
and efficacy. Nietzsche came to see ressentiment as a psychological condition of
self-poisoning, triggered by discontent with society’s stratificational hierarchy; it
 Meaninglessness, ressentiment, resentment 111
especially afflicts those who consider their situations oppressive, and their pros-
pects, worsening. Ressentiment can take the form of an interiorized hatred that
finds no expressive outlet. It can be blocked or repressed, and projected backward
onto oppressed individuals’ worldviews. But resentment, as emphasized by Adam
Smith and Hume, can also exist as a moral emotion and be associated with force-
ful behavior.

Forceful and helpless resentment

Resentment has been topical in contemporary social psychology and sociology.
Research on social inequality has shown that cognitive apprehension of relative
deprivation, an unfair discrepancy between one’s own situation and those of more
privileged others (Corning 2000), is apt to result in discontent and resentment
(Folger 1987; H. Smith and Kessler 2004).
In sociology, Bryan Turner (2011) views the high level of visibility between
social groups in modern societies, especially within mega-cities, as a source of
resentment. Compared to traditional societies, modern societies are open, fluid,
and contiguous. Wealth and celebrity are often on full display, with the homes,
lifestyles, and social behavior of the rich and famous displayed (primarily via
mass media) to the underprivileged and disprivileged in large doses. This rein-
forces the perception of the vast social distance between the common people and
the inaccessible wealthy elite. This exposure to inequality in the crowded social
spaces of modernity can breed resentment. Rousseau (1762a) argued that modern
individuals are rendered inauthentic by the need to assume a social mask, and that
they display a false, amoral self. Because status and prestige are considered scarce,
and their attainment often appears random and arbitrary, the resulting sense of
frustration and disappointment of those who fail to attain high status or prestige
creates the conditions for “an inflationary growth of resentment,” in the form of
“an individualized emotion or disposition” (B. Turner 2011:88, 90). The basis of
modern resentment, Turner concludes, is the development of a disjunction between
material or status success and personal worth. Traditional virtues such as loyalty,
saving, and asceticism have lost their place, and character has been devalued and
corroded (Sennett 1998). Success appears, to many who have not attained it, to
be either random or manipulated in favor of those with social advantages. This
makes a mockery of the idea of equality of opportunity and generates an “exquisite
resentment” (B. Turner 2011:90).
A few researchers have examined the relationship between resentment and mac-
rosociological processes of social class competition. Marshall ([1938] 1973:167–9)
recognized that class antagonisms have an affective source in “resentment against
inequality.” Such resentment, he argued, derives from three sources: (i) invidious
comparison of one’s own class with higher classes; (ii) frustration at other classes’
privileges, which create inequality of opportunity, and which imputes to the higher
classes “responsibility for the injustice under which the inferior suffers”; and
(iii) oppression, where class conflict is expressed in unequal cooperation, in which
one’s group is relatively powerless and subjected to exploitation. Marshall’s model
112 Emotions basic to alienation
of the three sources of resentment corresponds closely to the three-step process
of developing and acting upon a state of relative deprivation. First, a comparison
must be made by the individual of his personal situation or that of a group to which
he belongs. Second, there must be a cognitive appraisal that an individual, or his
group, is at a comparative disadvantage; this can induce frustration, but Marshall
used the concept of “frustration” in a way that departed from earlier frustration-
aggression theory, which was not a comparative model (N. Miller 1941). And third,
this perceived disadvantage is not only frustrating, but is seen as unfair, exploit-
ative, and oppressive, such that “the perceiver or his/her in-group deserves better,
and this results in angry resentment” (H. Smith et al. 2012:204).
While a relative-deprivation model can apply to individuals or to any social
group, Marshall’s focus was on social classes, and particularly on the resentment
of inferior classes. Barbalet (1992:155) points out that resentment can also be
experienced by members of superordinate classes insofar as their actions result in
losses of resources and opportunities. Class resentment, Barbalet (1992) shows, is
also sensitive to changes in fortune based on the business cycle and other disrup-
tions and discontinuities, with ascending classes not experiencing resentment but
rather a future-oriented optimism and an aggressive self-assurance, and descend-
ing classes experiencing a past orientation, status defensiveness, and the potential
for “resenting and rejecting the total framework of society” (Bensman and Vidich
1962:40). If not brought to consciousness, the resulting sublimated resentment can
lead to enhanced religiosity; a fascination with crime, cruelty, and perverse sexu-
ality; and venom directed not against the class forces responsible for downward
socioeconomic mobility, but rather “against those who are perceived as gaining
rewards without having made sacrifices, such as welfare recipients and those who
disdain economic opportunities, such as liberal and radical students (Sennett and
Cobb [1972] 1983:137–9). In such cases, resentment can fuel social and political
movements that cast blame for a group’s or class’s deteriorating quality of life on
foreigners, immigrants, welfare recipients, ethnic and racial minorities, and those
who are receiving undeserved rewards and attention.
The Marxian theory of class consciousness was never fully developed, and
Marx’s life ended amidst his effort to define the concept of social classes (Marx
[1894] 1971:886). While Marx ([1847] 1935:40) can be credited with an intuitive
understanding of relative deprivation, he did not infer the emotions that invidious
social comparisons of subordinate social classes would trigger. Efforts to describe
class consciousness in cognitive terms have foundered on the fact that members
of social classes frequently do not act in their objective interests, due in part to
the free-rider problem (Elster 1985). Those who have focused on the affective
aspect of class consciousness have identified resentment as a key emotion, but
resentment itself has not been explicitly defined. To this end, it is helpful to sketch
the arguments for proletarian revolutionary action adumbrated in Marxism and
identify the functions of the components of this conceptualization. On the level
of emotion, and especially longer-lasting sentiment, oppositional consciousness
requires resentment, which can be broken down into primary emotional com-
ponents (subjective-states/functions) of disgust/rejection, anger/destruction, and
 Meaninglessness, ressentiment, resentment 113
surprise/orientation-and-boundary-defense.5 Thus, the oppressed must recognize
what they wish to reject, what they wish to destroy, and what they wish to resist
by orienting themselves to economic exploitation (the negative experience of eco-
nomic interactions (Plutchik’s ‘territoriality’). According to Marx, and Marxists
who advocate a revolutionary class consciousness, the proletariat and associated
groups and classes reject their subdominant position and the associated condi-
tions of their exploitation. They wish to destroy the capitalist mode of economic
production, private property, and the class structure of society. They wish to gain
control of the territorial or socioeconomic resources of the capitalist classes, their
ill-gotten gains and private property that have been acquired by extracting sur-
plus value from the laboring classes: To this end, they must orient themselves to
resisting, and overcoming, economic exploitation and degrading conditions of
labor. Because the functions of rejection, destruction, and orientation belong to
the primary emotions disgust, anger, and surprise, respectively, there is at least
a rough correspondence between Marshall’s (i) comparison, (ii) frustration, and
(iii) oppression, and the present model of resentment, which identifies (i) a percep-
tion of inequality and therefore disgust, (ii) an effort to express unfair treatment,
through expressions of anger,6 and (iii) the negative experience of economic or
territorial relations, and therefore surprise.
Because the helpless form of resentment often is sublimated or repressed, and
fails to reach consciousness, it does not lend itself to analysis. Forceful resentment,
in contrast, can be seen as an affective basis of an oppositional class conscious-
ness, which has enabled resentment to be understood as possibly based on less
complex, or basic, emotions. We first elaborate the meanings of these three emo-
tions and then examine their secondary emotional combinations. Resentment can
derive from individuals’ invidious comparison of themselves with other in-group
individuals, or with out-group individuals, in comparing one’s in-group with an
out-group, or the in-group at present to its past or future condition (W. Runci-
man 1966). All of these comparisons, according to relative-deprivation theory, can
result in feelings of unfairness that stimulate an “angry resentment” (H. Smith et al.
2012:205; see also Folger 1987). This generalization, however, must be qualified
by adding that some individuals will recognize, and then accept, their position of
relative deprivation (Jost, Kay and Thorisdottir 2009) and not experience anger
or resentment.

Resentment as a tertiary emotion

While emotions are experienced as a complex state of the organism in which there
is perturbation, excitement, expressed physiological change, and impulses toward
adaptive behaviors, sentiments include (i) thoughts, views, opinions, or attitudes,
and (ii) the expression or “personal experience,” of “one’s own feelings” (Oxford:
meaning 1). Thus, a sentiment is a thought, view, attitude, or orientation to the
world, especially one based mainly on emotion instead of reason. Sentiments are
experienced as deep and persisting affective orientations to the world. The term
‘resentment’ is similar to ‘sentiment’, and ‘resentment’ once meant “a feeling or
114 Emotions basic to alienation
sentiment held in respect of another” (Oxford: meaning 2b). This definition of
resentment, however, is obsolete.
Further analysis of resentment requires that it be defined as a complex emotion.
Plutchik ([1962] 1991:118) defined “anger + surprise = outrage, resentment, hate.”
Anger, together with surprise, can be interpreted as outrage, but hatred does not
appear to be interior to resentment, but is a possible consequence of resentment.
Hatred has been defined differently elsewhere, as a combination of anger, disgust,
and fear (TenHouten 2007:234–40). Plutchik ([1962] 1991:156, emphasis added)
indirectly suggested that resentment might possess tertiary complexity, noting that
“feelings of resentment are composed of (at least) disgust and anger.” Plutchik
offered two different definitions of resentment – anger and surprise, and anger and
disgust. Between these two definitions, we have three emotions that can define
resentment as a tertiary emotion. Thus, for Plutchik, two wrongs have made a right.
Resentment can be defined as follows:

Resentment1 = Anger & Disgust & Surprise.

We next explore the place of these three primary emotions in resentment.

Anger
Anger is widely considered a negative emotion because it can be unpleasant for
all concerned. However, while trait anger can indeed be pathological (DiGiuseppe
and Tafrate 2007), normal anger is an approach-oriented, goal-directed emotion
that prioritizes the attainment of favorable outcomes (Tomarken and Zald 2009).
Anger of mild intensity can enhance analytic processing (Moons and Mackie
2007), and its approach-motivated features are visible even in infancy (He et al.
2010). Plutchik was not in error when he defined anger as a positively valenced
primary emotion. Anger becomes positive through a ‘dialectical’ process, a ‘nega-
tion of the negation’ that makes normal anger a positive: One is insulted, a negative
experience; one then endeavors to negate this negative experience by a derisive
rejoinder, a counter-insult, or an expression of displeasure. Through insult, the
other has asserted their status in a hierarchy by lowering one’s own status or stand-
ing; a display of anger is an adaptive response. Anger is effort to restore one’s
status, either by defending one’s status or by endeavoring to reduce the status of
one’s opponent. Anger is a re-assertive response to goal blockage or denigration
(Carver and Harmon-Jones 2009). If, in comparison to other people, groups, or
even to themselves at different points in time, individuals who believe they do not
have what they or their group deserves, and feel at least relatively deprived, will
feel anger and resentment. There is thus a close relationship between anger and
resentment, and it can be said that anger is resentment’s central ingredient. In their
meta-analytic review of relative deprivation theory, Smith et al. (2012:217–218)
repeatedly referred to “angry resentment”; at the same time, they pointed out the
difference between the two emotions. Resentment is a less ephemeral and more
clearly moral emotion (that is, a sentiment) than is simple anger (Grant 2008).
 Meaninglessness, ressentiment, resentment 115
The resentful person will feel anger at having been violated, mistreated, or
brutalized by others. The anger within resentment “strives to get even, inflicts one
hurt for another, . . . [and] asserts one’s personal power over anything that chal-
lenges it” (Diamond 1996:271). Such anger will take the form of a desire for the
misery of the violator, together with an aversion to his happiness (Hume [1739]
1978:382). Hume saw anger as a response to suffering, pain, frustration, injury,
and wrong inflicted by others which instills a desire to act in the moral role of
punisher. Resentment, Hume ([1748] 1986:218–27) argued, strives to make itself
known and is desired not for any hedonic pleasure but for itself. As summarized
by Baier (1980:138), Hume argued that “Resentment is not simply anger, it is the
form anger takes when it is provoked by what is seen as a wrong, and when the
striking back which is desired is seen as punishment.” Anger is interior to the very
definition of resentment, which is “a feeling of . . . ill will, bitterness, or anger
against a person or thing” (Oxford: meaning 1a).
Anger is a crucial component of resentment (Spielberger 1988).7 The percep-
tion that one has received undeserved harmful treatment by others, and deserves
better, can be a source of a deep and persisting anger. Those who experience
childhood abuse are apt to develop a bitter resentment about having been mis-
treated and unloved, which creates a thirst for retribution. Pincus (2002) sees an
anger-infused, even seething, intense, and enduring resentment, fueled by a sense
of worthlessness, as increasing individuals’ propensity for murder and rape, which
become – although often misdirected and precipitated by a mild slight – crimes of
retribution. Such deep resentment, Pincus argues, leads to (i) seeing the slightest
indifference as a global disrespect, (ii) reduces capacity for self-control, and (iii)
leads to misinterpretation or distortion of social signals as shameful rejection.

Disgust
When the angering behavior of predatory others is seen as unjust and is rejected on
moral grounds, the victim’s sociomoral response includes disgust. It is meaning-
less, or useless, suffering that is the source of resentment. Lévinas (1998:91–5)
argues that the resentful person engages in a “refusal of meaning” for any claimed
justification of his suffering. The alternative to such rejection, or revulsion, is a
passive submission, a reduction of the self to a mere thing whose humanity has
been overwhelmed by the evil that rends suffering. Resentment at being subjected
to useless, even absurd, pain is an emotion, and thus is also an adaptive reaction
that, if forceful, can command the ethical duties of others to help relieve one’s
helplessness, abandonment, and solitude. It is rejection, the function of disgust,
that can elevate an interiorized form of “pure pain” that is “intrinsically senseless”
and characterized by a “gratuitous meaninglessness” to a forceful resentment. This
forceful resentment, however confused and misdirected, comprises a demand for
ethical treatment and palliative intervention. This is the price that civilization must
pay to lighten the pain of those who suffer – and especially if the source of suf-
fering is diabolical and malignant, and even if this effort itself causes suffering.
Bearing this burden, Lévinas 1998:93–5) argued, is the supreme ethical principle,
116 Emotions basic to alienation
for meeting this obligation to the other who suffers is the only kind of suffering
that is meaningful. Resentment is indeed a sociomoral emotion; it can be ignored,
but only at the cost of rejecting what is morally incumbent, thereby becoming a
party to a meaningless evil.
From Hume’s analysis, we might expect that the primary emotion disgust is
also interior to resentment. For Hume ([1739] 1978:581), moral qualities are
“certainly . . . not deriv’d from reason . . . but proceed entirely from a moral taste
and from certain sentiments of pleasure or disgust.” Hume ([1748] 1986:213)
observed that “those who produce utility earn praise, while those who produce
disutility and moral evil instill in those they injure “the strongest sentiment of
disgust.” Those who are tyrannical, barbarous, or insolent trigger disgust in those
they dominate and abuse. The outward expression of disgust can itself be punitive
toward an oppressive other. No experience of sociality “can be agreeable, or even
tolerable, where a man feels his presence unwelcome, and discovers all around him
symptoms of disgust and aversion” (Hume [1748] 1986:273, 280–1).
In considering Marshall, a linkage between his “comparison” and disgust was
drawn, which requires elaboration. Disgust is the prototypical adaptive reaction
to what Plutchik calls “identity,” Fiske calls “equality matching,” and de Waal
(2009:187) calls “fairness.” Sensitivity to a partner, another individual, or a collec-
tivity getting a comparatively larger share or reward is disturbing and agitating to
capuchin monkeys and chimpanzees (de Waal 2009:187, 190–1). Human individuals
typically resent unequal treatment, which in economics has led to the development of
“inequality aversion theory” (Chambers 2012). While the inequality-aversion litera-
ture does not mention disgust, it does focus on the basic function of disgust, rejection,
especially in studies of bargaining games, where unfairly unequal offers tend to be
rejected; rational self-interest is outweighed by the force of resentment. Concern that
what others get might be better than what we get might seem petty and irrational,
and often is; it nonetheless serves the adaptive function of resistance to being taken
advantage of, discourages exploitation, and contributes to control of the free-rider
problem. In evolutionary terms, de Waal (2006) argues, it was the anticipation of
the others’ resentment, motivated by conflict avoidance, that led to the emergence
of a norm of fairness, first in primates and then in humans. As de Waal (2006:220)
explains, “From humble beginnings noble principles arise. It starts with resentment
if you get less, then moves to concern about how others will react if you get more,
and ends with declaring [unfairness a] . . . bad thing in general.” The consequences
of perceived unfairness extend far beyond a twinge of resentment if a sibling gets a
bigger slice of pizza; this was recognized by Marshall, and is reiterated by de Waal
(2009:190), who observes, “Human history is filled with ‘let them eat cake’ moments
that create resentment, sometimes boiling over into bloody revolt.”

Surprise
Behavior that stimulates resentment effectively penetrates one’s boundaries, pos-
sibly involves abuse of body and property, and therefore contains an element of sur-
prise (the prototypical adaptive reaction to breaches of one’s territory or resources).8
 Meaninglessness, ressentiment, resentment 117
Violations of manners, norms of interpersonal behavior, and respect for what is
valued, believed in, and held to be proper and moral can be seen as breaches of
interpersonal or moral territory. Individuals who perceive they are undeservedly
disadvantaged will experience a number of emotions; in addition to anger and resent-
ment, these include surprise, disappointment, outrage, and envy (Corning 2000).
Feather, McKee and Bekker (2011) found that both anger and surprise clustered
with resentment as undeserved negative emotions.9 We have seen that resentment
arises when one is placed in an inferior position, and where harmful treatment is
undeserved, unfair, insulting, or injurious (B. Turner 2011). Adam Smith ([1759]
2000:44) has been cited as asserting that resentment arises when an empowered
other wrongly inflicts injury. The most direct kind of injurious territorial violation
is injury to one’s ultimate territory, the body.

Primary–secondary emotional pathways to resentment

To further interpret resentment, it is helpful to reformulate this proposed tertiary
emotion as a combination of one primary emotion and the secondary emotion
formed from the other two primaries.

A contemptible breach of normative boundaries

We have defined contempt as a mixture of anger and disgust. In contempt, these
two emotions are typically present at high intensity levels. Given that anger and
disgust can be externally focused moral emotions, the same can be said of con-
tempt. Contempt is apt to be particularly strong if it is directed to an individual or
group believed to be inferior who nonetheless holds a position of power or advan-
tage; this is the case in contempt for a tyrant, or for a political party propelled to
power but regarded as inferior by members of a traditional elite (Elster 1999:74,
2010). Yet, in resentment, contempt can also be self-focused, for the first reac-
tion of the man of ressentiment to his defeat is not resentment or indignation, but
shame and self-contempt (Reginster 1997:296). The object of contempt is (i) one
who is perceived as failing to uphold interpersonal or sociomoral standards, and
whose behavior violates others’ values, norms, mores, or bodies. For Nietzsche,
ressentiment (or helpless resentment) involves a covert endorsement of the values
of the agent inflicting injury. Given our definition, contempt = anger & disgust, it
follows by substitution into the formula for resentment1 that

Resentment2 = Contempt & Surprise.

The emotion, surprise, motivates us to resolve representational discrepancies.

“Surprise,” Izard (1980:209) observes, “resets consciousness, and the resulting
affect gives direction to subsequent perceptual activity.” Surprise, as boundary
defense, can involve a degradation of one’s meaning system, combined with
contempt for the putative causes of this sociocultural deterioration and shrinking
opportunities to maintain a valued way of life and associated systems of belief. This
118 Emotions basic to alienation
form of resentment, resentment2, is consistent with Hume’s ([1739] 1978:389–93)
position that contempt involves invidiously comparing oneself, regarded posi-
tively, with another perceived as undeserving of sympathy.
When experienced by members of dominant and oppressive groups, contempt
is associated with short-term derogation, long-term social exclusion, lack of group
reconciliation, and an absence of relational improvement (A. Fischer and Roseman
2007). Nicole Tausch et al. (2011) report that, while anger by itself does not contribute
to such intergroup difficulties, contempt (which includes anger) does contribute to
non-normative action, such as lynching in the United States during the reconstruction
period following the Civil War (and beyond) and systematic rape in South Africa,
rampant during the apartheid era. The holding of a subordinate group in contempt
has historically played a key role in humiliation, dehumanization, and brutalization.
Resentment directed downward is manifested in the contemptuous treatment of the
property, rights, bodies, and dignity of the oppressed on the part of their oppressors,
and in some instances by derisive characterization of the working classes and the
underclass by members of dominant classes, who do not hesitate to describe their
social inferiors as lazy freeloaders sponging off a putatively bloated social safety net.

An angering culture shock

From our definition shock = surprise & disgust,10 it follows that

Resentment3 = Anger & Shock.

Resentment of those conducting what is regarded as morally unacceptable or

sociomorally shocking behavior can trigger angry indignation, that is, an annoy-
ance provoked by whatever is perceived as unworthy, mean, or cruel. Resentment
can thus result from perceived shockingly wrong, angering predatory behavior of
another person, group, or category of persons.
Resentment occurs through protracted, intractable intergroup conflicts, and
anger is surely an important aspect of resentful feelings (Bar-Tal 2004). Because
anger is a sociomoral emotion, it is more likely experienced, or experienced with
greater intensity, by those who are offended than by those who are offending.
Anger, whether embedded in resentment, or not, and whether joined with a shock-
ing realization, or not, can enhance self-esteem and play a role in redressing puta-
tively wrong and unfair situations.

A disgusting outrage
Meaninglessness also finds an affective basis in the mixture of disgust and the
secondary emotions resulting from the combination of anger and surprise. This
is hypothesized to form outrage. One syllable of the word ‘outrage’ is rage, and
‘outrage’ clearly has an anger component, as it means an “extremely vicious or
violent act, . . . a deep insult or offense” (offense meaning moving toward, the
behavior of anger) and especially, “great anger, indignation, etc.” Surprise is more
indirectly included, but is nonetheless present, as outrage also means “exceeding
 Meaninglessness, ressentiment, resentment 119
all bounds of decency or reasonableness” (Webster’s New World Dictionary 1988).
Thus, outrage includes a penetration of a normative social boundary. Moral outrage
is a response to the behavior of others, not to the self (Goodenough 1997). Given
that outrage = anger & surprise, it follows that

Resentment4 = Disgust & Outrage.

Resentment4 results from the behavior of those others adjudged to have commit-
ted disgusting and outrageous violations of social norms. It is in a world in which
meaning seems to be slipping away, and individuals lose the sense of understanding
the events in which they are engaged, that resentment finds its fullest expression.
Insofar as the “threat of meaninglessness . . . haunts contemporary man and is rooted
partly in a quicksand of shifting or competing values, partly in a morass of human
evil that the easiest conscience can scarcely ignore” (Penick 1955:124), individuals
will experience meaninglessness and will be subject to the experience of resentment.
One feature of the modern world is the endlessness of possibilities that the individual
can experiment with, in a process of self-creation and openness to all kinds of experi-
ences and beliefs. This, for some, will mean that life need not be taken seriously, as
if it means something, as if it were morally constrained only by outmoded views of
the sacred. If no important distinction can be made between true meaning and false
meaning, then all meaning becomes false, an illusion, and a deception. But to accept
that there is no truth means there is no such thing as a lie, and it is at this point that
meaninglessness can become monstrous and unleash the demons of resentment upon
those who are held up as scapegoats and subjected to abuse and even brutalization. It
is when meaning becomes entirely relative that resentments are set free, so that mean-
inglessness can become “a cause of corruption and decay in society” (Casey 2004:74).
A definitional summary of the tertiary emotion, resentment, is shown in Figure 8.1.

Outrage

Surprise

Anger Resentment

Shock
Disgust

Contempt

Figure 8.1 Hypothesized primary and secondary emotional components of the tertiary emo-
tion resentment
120 Emotions basic to alienation
Discussion
The concepts ressentiment and resentment have a colorful history. ‘Ressentiment’
came to be elaborated by Smith, Nietzsche, and Scheler to describe the affec-
tive reaction to downward social mobility or unjustified suffering and oppression.
The phenomena that ressentiment refers to are real and are of sociological and
sociohistorical importance. Both resentment and ressentiment have taken on a
negative meaning. Even negative emotions can be adaptive, however, and Lévinas
recognized this in insightfully observing that it is meaningless to suffer without
resentment. Hume provided further insight in noting that resentment is meaning-
less if it does not make itself known and taken into account by those it accurately
targets. Resentment has the potential to be not only adaptive but also forcefully so.
There is a continuity between emotions, which are acute and intense short term,
and sentiments, which are less activating and become longer-term dispositions of
attitude, personality, and character. One might feel the emotion of resentment at
not being invited to a social event, but develop a global sentiment of resentfulness
if one is systematically excluded from the life of one’s community. In terms of
theory construction, it is useful to focus on emotions, proceeding under the likeli-
hood that the most complex sentiments develop out of the most complex emotions.
Resentment, consistent with its first meaning, re-sentiment, means it is not just
an emotion but is a sentiment, meaning it has substantial cognitive content. Re-
sentiment is also past-oriented, as it is a reaction to an insult or injustice that has
been suffered, and involves recall, recollection, reconsideration, and rumination.
This temporal emphasis was evident in 1632: “An elephant, in whom . . . is . . . a
wonderfull memorie and a recenting of things past.” And in 1716, “Despair . . .
supposes . . . the resenting past, and the date of grace spent” (Oxford).

Notes
1 Nietzsche’s three classes – those who fought, those who prayed, and those who worked –
was a vast oversimplification of the complex class structure of medieval times, and in
no way can be seen as a historical study. Alexander Murray (1978) describes the com-
plexity and development of medieval class structure and the gradual breakdown, in the
12th century, of the tripartite structure of those who fought, prayed, and worked.
2 Power, for Nietzsche, can also be expressed in calm restraint, tolerance, and reposed
confidence.
3 The claim that it is the priest, not the slave, who is the ‘man of ressentiment’ is contro-
versial, because many readers of Nietzsche have associated ressentiment revaluation
with the ‘slave revolt’. However, in Nietzsche’s (1886) Beyond Good and Evil, the
moralities of the master and slave are described without reference to ressentiment;
the notions of the priest and ressentiment are introduced together in the Genealogy of
Morals (Nietzsche 1887). Ressentiment revaluation is a “slave revolt” not because it is
instigated by the slave, but because it negates “noble values” (Reginster 1997:289).
4 Nietzsche ([1895] 2005:55, 745) was no admirer of the ‘priest’, whom he described as
“the most dangerous form of parasite, as the venomous spider of creation,” which filled
him with “disgust,” such that the very sight of him “excites loathing.” He points out the
historical truth that Christian priests, while professing pity and love of others, found a
way to exert power over others. Nietzsche’s ([1883–91] 1978:83–5) Zarathustra likened
 Meaninglessness, ressentiment, resentment 121
resentment to the tarantula, a solitary, defensive creature, terrifying and disgusting in
appearance. It is poisonous, and can launch a surprise attack, but hides in its hole and
walks backward. Nietzsche’s tarantula is filled with rage and seeks revenge, willing
equality as a response to all who have power.
5 Some emotion researchers (e.g., H. Smith and Kessler 2004:293) see what are here
considered complex secondary or tertiary emotions not as containing primary compo-
nents, but rather representing “different natural word clusters within the basic emotion
of anger [and other emotions].” According to this view, as examples, resentment and
frustration represent anger, and disappointment and hopelessness represent sadness.
6 Frustration is a common affective reaction to opposition and blockage of goal attain-
ment. This lack of control can induce either rational problem-solving methods and/or
anger. The relationship between frustration and anger is so close that they are apt to form
a common factor in measurement models (e.g., Deater-Deckard, Petrill and Thompson
2006). Frustration contributes to aggressiveness (N. Miller 1941), and aggressiveness
can be defined as a mixture of anger and anticipation (TenHouten 2013b:73–90, 86–90,
138–9,144–6).
7 Spielberger (1988) rather sees resentment as an aspect of anger-in; but if, as claimed
here, resentment is a complex emotion and anger is a primary emotion, then anger-in
(and anger-out) is rather a component of resentment.
8 Surprise is a reaction to the misexpected or to the unexpected. A misexpected event
causes an individual’s “coherence representation,” or model of the world, to break
down and initiates an urgent “representational adaptive process” (Maguire, Maguire and
Keane 2011:177). Maguire and colleagues’ “integration hypothesis” (in opposition to
Teigen and Keren’s (2003) “contrast hypothesis”) holds that events difficult to integrate
into one’s coherence representation are most apt to be surprising. If individuals were
able to understand the precise causes behind events, then low-probability outcomes
would in all cases be more difficult to integrate than higher probability events. However,
given limits on knowledge and mental resources available in the everyday world, indi-
viduals tend to depend not on causal models but on generalized, often simple, heuristics
(Gigerenzer et al. 1999). Accordingly, rare events, potential deadly to beneficial, such
as severe weather and lottery winning, are seen as improbable but are generalized in
terms of frequencies in ways that do not require representation updating.
9 In this study, disgust was not considered, but being treated as an object of disgust would
appear to qualify as an undeserved negative emotion.
10 Goddard (2014:74–5) defines disgust as (i) “extremely unpleasant” and “unacceptable
and shocking.” According to the present emotions classification, however, shock is
rather a secondary emotion combining disgust and surprise.
9 Cultural estrangement
and the emotions

Introduction
Seeman (1972:473) defines cultural or value estrangement, one of his five variet-
ies of alienation, as “an individual’s [i] rejection of or [ii] sense of removal from
dominant social values.” Gone unnoticed is that this definition delineates two very
different experiences of cultural estrangement. In the first kind (CE1), individuals
willfully separate from and largely reject the dominant, or core, values of their own
culture or society. They can do so with an air of superiority if, for example, they
feel and show disdain, or even contempt, for materialistic, consumerist society
(Stauth and Turner 1988). In the second case (CE2), individuals accept the core
beliefs and values of the dominant cultural worldview, but opine that their views,
performance, and/or behavior do not align with, or ‘measure up to’, the culture’s
value expectations; they can consequently experience lowered self-esteem, anxi-
ety, or existential dread or terror.
We define these two kinds of cultural estrangement as varieties of alienation that
can be understood on the level of sentiments or emotions, and we identify the spe-
cific emotions that accompany the process of rejecting, or accepting, the dominant
norms and values of one’s culture. To date, no systematic effort has been made to
identify these emotions, either theoretically or empirically. To this end, we identify
and interpret emotions specific to CE1 and CE2 and examine their potential behav-
ioral consequences. In order to model their emotional bases, we link three primary
emotions to each (with one primary emotion, anticipation, shared by both). We
then infer the existence of three secondary emotions and one tertiary emotion for
each kind of cultural estrangement. We begin with CE1.

Cultural estrangement1 as rejection of, and disdain for,

societal values and meanings
In his initial model of varieties of alienation, Seeman (1959:789; citing Nettler
1957:672) focuses on the kind of cultural estrangement (CE1) in which the indi-
vidual rejects “commonly held values in the society,” or assigns “low reward value
to goals or behaviors that are highly valued in the given society.” CE1 typically
involves a psychological detachment, or distancing, from the general content of
 Cultural estrangement and the emotions 123
societal-level trends, including features of “mass society” (Seeman 1959, 1967),1
“mass culture” (Stauth and Turner 1988), “materialistic and individualistic values”
(Carlisle, Henderson and Hanlon 2009), or “consumerist culture” (Gilbert 2008).
Seeman (1959:788) initially referred to this variety of alienation as “isolation.” By
this he does not mean lack of social adjustment or lack of “warmth, security, or
intensity of individuals’ social contacts.” Isolation rather means cultural or value
estrangement; for Seeman, this principally characterizes the intellectual or artist
“who rejects current standards of success or attractiveness” (Seeman 1972:473),
prefers an alternative value set to that endorsed by popular culture, disdains the
world of the shallow ‘herd’, or seeks to challenge mass cultural forms through
alternative literary, artistic, or philosophical works.
Besides intellectuals and members of dissident subcultures, all sorts of criti-
cal social theorists, social philosophers, artists, literary figures, members of
academic communities, avant-garde artists, political radicals, nonconformists
who claim membership in countercultural or fringe groups (Schwendinger and
Schwendinger 1985), and opponents of consumerism (Sandlin and Callahan
2009) provide countless celebrations and demonstrations of the putative condi-
tions of sociocultural adversity. Many influential writers, for example, pursue a
strategy of alienation. This kind of cultural alienation conveys a cynical disdain,
even contempt, for the dominant culture; it sees the here-and-now as not good
enough, and expresses a desire to be elsewhere. Writing of cultural estrangement,
Monroe avers:

Within theory and criticism, countless books and articles celebrate alien-
ation. . . . We might even speculate that the most influential writers . . . implicitly
cast themselves as alienated, isolated, perhaps even endangered resisters of
hegemonic forces. Their strategy . . . is an attempt to partake of the incorri-
gible newness, the inexhaustible freshness, of alienation.
(1998:61)

Such an orientation can be rewarding. One can take pride in refusing to identify
with mainstream values (Schacht 1970:185), experience a feeling of uniqueness
or superiority, or see one’s oppositional beliefs and values as positively self-defin-
ing (Snyder and Fromkin 1980). Indeed, many culturally estranged individuals
demean, deride, disparage, and disdain popular culture, which they view with aver-
siveness (Nettler 1957:672–4). Cultural estrangement is typically not experienced
as negative or pathological but rather as a positive kind of “cultural emancipation”
(Bernard, Gebauer and Maio 2006). Such culturally estranged individuals typi-
cally feel superior to those who passively accept the dominant culture’s beliefs,
core values, and meaning systems; they experience a self-conscious superiority
to their enculturated self. Novelists pursuing an alienist strategy can present an
unreliable, unpredictable text which prevents the reader from identifying the work
“as an instance of this or that convention, genre, or theme” (Monroe 1998:184). A
postmodernist technique called “short-circuiting” seeks to discourage the readers’
discovery of patterns and an organic experience, by offering a series of disjunctive
124 Emotions basic to alienation
experiences, juxtaposing reason and absurdity, sincerity and fantasy, creating anxi-
ety and uncertainty, all intended to disequilibrate, even administer a shock, to the
reader (Lodge 1977). Many postmodernist scholars also contend that the symbols
and signs of contemporary culture provide only imitations of community life, such
that meaningful social realities are replaced with unfaithful copies (Baudrillard
1981; Oropesa 1995). Consumer society remains a prominent target of cultural
criticism; citizens are portrayed as inhabiting a world of superficial brands, images,
and gimmicks and immersing themselves in spectacles, simulations, and carnivals
(Braun and Langman 2012).
This kind of cultural estrangement can involve a wide variety of affective experi-
ences. Disdain is perhaps the most general affective term for CE1. Neal (2007:160,
emphasis added) observes that “cultural estrangement refers to a sense of disdain
or rejection of the prevailing lifestyles in one’s society,” and assigns “low reward
value to activities such as mass entertainment, competitive sports, [and] vacation
travel.” We endorse Neal’s identification of disdain (and rejection) as central to
CE1 (but not CE2). We next define disdain, model it as a complex emotion, and
specify its primary and secondary emotional building blocks.
The word ‘disdain’ derives from Middle English terms such as dedeyn and
desdeyn and the Old French desdeign. It signifies “the feeling entertained towards
that which one considers unworthy of notice or beneath one’s dignity; scorn, con-
tempt” (Oxford). The disdainful individual possesses an aloof, superior attitude
that one’s social world is not good enough, is beneath one’s dignity. The cultur-
ally estranged artist or intellectual disdainfully portrays society’s way of life in
a biting, sarcastic manner, exercising a subtle kind of aggression, or a “power to
hurt” (Monroe 1998).
Some intellectuals disdain their own culture, society, or civilization as a whole;
but such a macrolevel focus of disdain is the exception rather than the rule. Cre-
ative individuals tend to develop disdainful feelings and attitudes toward con-
stituencies in their own organizational or professional environments (Faÿ 2008)
that they perceive to inhibit and obstruct their novel productions, writings, or
ideas. Disdainful reactions can be reinforced by the belief that constituencies,
gate-keepers, and managerial decision-makers lack insight into the value of one’s
productions and instead favor those of less creative individuals whose lack of
novelty presents fewer risks (Ganti 2012).

The primary and secondary emotional components of disdain

We begin our theory-building effort by hypothesizing that disdain is a tertiary
emotion, defined as a combination of three simpler, basic, or primary emotions,
as follows:

Disdain1 = Disgust & Anticipation & Anger

We first link these three primary emotions to disdain, and then examine the three
primary–secondary emotional combinations that follow from this definition.
 Cultural estrangement and the emotions 125
Sociomoral disgust and its function of rejection
The term ‘disdain’ includes in its meaning, “loathing, aversion, dislike” and “the
quality which excites aversion” (Oxford: meaning 3). Seeman (1972:473, empha-
sis added) defines value isolation (CE1) as “the individual’s rejection of commonly
held values in the society.” Rejection is the function of the primary emotion disgust
(Plutchik 1983). Disgust is a strong term, but, like other emotions, its meaning
includes milder forms, such as distaste, disapproval, and dislike. On a visceral
level, disgust is a psychophysiological avoidance reaction to a noxious stimulus
and is arguably therefore not an emotion (Panksepp 2007). On the sociological
level, however, disgust is a socially constructed, sociomoral emotion (Haidt 2003)
and can be regarded as irreducibly primary (Plutchik 1962; Ekman 1992; Johnson-
Laird and Oatley 1992). Disgust can be directed toward the political system, cor-
porate greed, and exploitation of the poor by the rich or to mainstream ideologies,
belief systems, and metanarratives (Gottschalk 1993).

Anticipation
Plutchik regarded both anticipation and surprise as primary emotions; in particular,
they are adaptive reactions to the positive and negative experiences of territoriality.
Surprise also possesses a pan-culturally observable facial expression and recog-
nition (Ekman, Sorenson and Friesen 1969); this is a sufficient, but not neces-
sary, condition for considering an emotion primary. Impressive evidence suggests
that anticipation has the crucial adaptive function of exploring the environment,
endowing it with value, and seeing it as replete with resources. While anticipa-
tion is not reducible to any other emotions, it can combine with other emotions to
form higher-order emotions (e.g., with disgust, to form cynicism; with anger, to
form aggressiveness; with joy, to form optimism) (TenHouten 2013b:18–19). For
high-CE1 individuals, disdain, and its potential mocking and insulting behavioral
concomitants, can involve an expectation of the worst from others, whom they are
quick to disparage.

Anger
One meaning of disdain is “indignation; anger or vexation arising from offended
dignity” (Oxford: meaning 2a). Such angry behavior can be verbal, taking the
form of insults, sarcastic remarks, vilification, and other expressions of contempt,
including nonverbal communications, gestures, and expressions. CE1 is not apt
to involve a belligerent, inarticulate anger, but rather a subtle and indirect anger,
the kind one finds in crafted literary performances, as in the case of poetry that
subversively calls attention to dissatisfaction and discontent and contributes to a
desire to be elsewhere or to transcend one’s enculturated self.
Anger is widely considered a negative emotion because it is apt to be an unpleas-
ant experience for all involved. Plutchik, however, was justified in regarding it
as a positively valenced emotion, with the function of destruction. Anger is an
126 Emotions basic to alienation
approach-motivated emotion intended to attain favorable outcomes, reverse unfa-
vorable circumstances (Tomarken and Zald 2009:209), or undo goal blockages by
reasserting goal-attainment intentions (Carver and Harmon-Jones 2009). Panksepp
(1998:189) correctly contends that the aim of anger is to increase the probability of
success in pursuit of one’s ongoing desires and competition for resources.

State anger and cynicism: an explosive combination

In this section, following Plutchik, we interpret the mixture of anticipation and
disgust as cynicism. While cynicism can be described as a cognitive orientation
to the social world, it also possesses emotional content. There is value, the cynic
knows, in engaging with ideas on an emotional level. Cutler (2005:147; see also
Sloterdijk 1987) observes that the cynic is able to “touch the reader’s emotions
and imagination in some way to produce a reaction (anger, surprise, laughter,
outrage, etc.), and second . . . produce some critical thinking.” The cynic’s critical
speech is apt to be polemical and not based on logical argumentation; it is rather
emotion-laden, sarcastic, mocking, possibly a tirade against a lie which popular
culture has sanctioned; it can send a shudder of horror and outrage through those
who conscientiously send their donations to good causes (Cutler 2005:150–1).
The modern cynic is typically, though not necessarily, disengaged from the world,
nihilistic, and disillusioned, seeking solitude and interiority, and refusing to engage
in a politics seen as inauthentic. Personality cynics tend to have low ego strength
and suffer from insecurity; they project their own moral inadequacies onto oth-
ers, become vigilant about rule infractions, and become hypercritical (Abraham
2000:275). At the extreme, the cynic embodies the postmodern character structure
at its worst, as it describes truth as relative, political philosophies as lacking cred-
ibility, language as an inept tool, and involvement in culture and politics risky and
uncertain; a cynical worldview is embraced as a way to fill the empty space of
cultural malaise (Sloterdijk 1987).
Contemporary cynics, Bewes (1997:4) asserts, are “radically alienated both from . . .
[their] own linguistic products and from the possibility of ideologically centered
political activity.” They accept their own estrangement and are likely to reject
involvements with societal institutions. For example, cynical high school students
are prone to protest being presented with and held responsible for new ideas, and
they generate negative perceptions regarding all aspects of the formal educational
system. They engage in problematic classroom behavior, are unwilling to improve
their interpersonal relations, reject parental and school counseling, distrust others’
intentions, and do not believe in the value of learning and education (Frymier
1997). Cynical, culturally alienated, anti-intellectual students disrespect and even
abuse their teachers, place no value on education, defy their parents and caregiv-
ers, and engage in cheeky, destructive, aggressive behavior. This aggressiveness
expresses rejection of, even disgust for, others and their beliefs and commitments.
Key events in the development of cynicism among undergraduate students include
rejection of honesty, rejection of the belief that people are moral, and the belief that
people are vicious and untrustworthy (Hunter, Gerbing and Boster 1982).
 Cultural estrangement and the emotions 127
In organizational contexts, culturally estranged individuals tend to be pessimis-
tic about the honesty and motivations of change agents, and look with skepticism
on organizational initiatives to involve them in decision-making. A gap between
what subordinates expect and what they receive contributes to situational cyni-
cism concerning organization change, as expectations of significant changes for
the better become mythical in the face of the reality of no changes at all (J. Dean,
Brandes and Dharwadkar 1998; Abraham 2000:274–5; Faÿ 2008).
Plutchik ([1962] 1991:118) defines “disgust + expectancy = cynicism,” and this
definition of cynicism, on its affective level, is accepted here, except that we prefer
‘anticipation’ over ‘expectancy’. Thus,

Cynicism = Anticipation & Disgust

The individual who has become a cynic might not know what another will say or
do next, but anticipates that he or she is not going to like it, and is apt to scornfully
reject any new ideas or organizational plans or initiatives out of hand and with
antipathy. Given this definition of cynicism, by replacing ‘anticipation & disgust’
with ‘cynicism’ in the formula for disdain1, it follows that

Disdain2 = Cynicism & Anger

The goal orientation of the cynic can involve the behavior of anger, that is, a mov-
ing toward the object of anger. On the behavioral level, angry cynics are apt to
lash out with disdainful comments, disrespectful gestures, or scoff at, mock, and
ridicule others’ beliefs, lifestyles, and commitments. Intellectual cynics typically
perceive and disdainfully describe members of the ‘herd’ as shallow, consumer-
oriented, superstition-infused, unenlightened, uncritical, uninformed, and easily
hornswoggled.

Aggressiveness expressing disgust

Disdain can be understood as a mixture of verbal aggressiveness and other-directed
disgust. Not all aggressiveness is malicious or malevolent, for forceful, attack-
ing behavior can be constructive, self-asserting, and prideful. Plutchik ([1962]
1991:118, 146–9) problematically posited that “expectancy + anger = aggression,
revenge, stubbornness.” Aggressiveness is preferably defined in terms of antici-
pation, not of ‘expectancy’, which has a slightly different meaning. ‘Revenge’
describes a behavior rather than an emotion; its corresponding emotion is more
accurately termed ‘vengefulness’. To be aggressive differs from exhibiting ‘stub-
bornness’, a character trait that in the extreme refers to a quality or state of inflex-
ibility, grimness, implacability, and an irrational unwillingness to back down
even in the face of overwhelming odds. With these modifications of Plutchik’s
definition,

Aggressiveness = Anger & Anticipation

128 Emotions basic to alienation
The emotion, ‘aggressiveness’, whose outward expression constitutes the behavior
of aggression, consists of anger that can range in intensity from mild irritation to a
furious rage, together with an anticipatory incentive–motivation to show hostility
toward the targeted object, victim, group, culture, or system of values.
As a component of aggressiveness, anger can be expressed in a myriad of
controlled, subtle, or contained ways, including stares, acts, or verbal utterances
intended to unsettle or hurt the recipient but which exhibit no obvious outward
emotionality. In C1, anger is embedded in the higher, instrumental and proactive
(as opposed to spontaneous and reactive) type of aggressiveness (Hubbard et al.
2010), and typically exists at a moderate level of intensity. Proactive aggression
in CE1 involves critical description on the level of cultural performance. Such
criticism is displayed, for example, in literary performances designed to invoke
emotional distress and intended to be offensive (Monroe 1998:203). Thus, a third
variant of disdain follows from the definition of aggressiveness as a combination
of anticipation and anger:

Disdain3 = Aggressiveness & Disgust

Rejection of the dominant culture invokes the emotion of disgust and the asso-
ciated behaviors of deriding, mocking, insulting, laughing at, and denigrating,
offered as critical resistance to being contaminated by the sanguine advances of
one’s culture and civilization. For intellectuals, this can take the form of literary
performances of alienation; they exercise their subtle power to hurt not through
crude violence, but rather through poetry and fiction, through avant-garde high
art and countercultural pop art, through postmodern social theory with its oppo-
sitional and subversive agendas, through a jabbing of the “sore spot” of society
and culture (Monroe 1998:4). From romanticism to modernism to postmodernism,
cultural practices have emerged which stand in opposition to, and as renunciation
of, a morality that seems “counterfeit” and “a wearisome fetter” (Howe 1967:14).
Writers such as Wolfe, Joyce, and other giants of modernism expressed “a hatred
of culture and civilization” together with “a radical and fanatical urge to destroy”
(Aeurbach [1946] 2013:551). Postmodernists have extended this opposition to
contemporary culture; they see the costs of any position, even the modernist strat-
egy of attacking “the certainties and institutions of modernity,” as “avoiding pref-
erence or evaluation as such” (Monroe 1998:65).
Many culturally estranged individuals cynically expect only the worst from
others, hold their society’s way of life in contempt, and verbally and symboli-
cally, and often in a highly indirect manner, attack their culture and its value
system. Disdainful cultural criticism can make fun of, lampoon, look down on,
deflate, mock, satirize, burlesque, rag, roast, and razz. Such aggressiveness typi-
cally assumes a subtle form of literary, artistic, and sociophilosophical criticism
that can range from mild and subtle (e.g., the ‘aggressive oppositional strategy’
of modern art (Barrett 1958:45)), to an extreme wherein a way of life is charac-
terized as abhorrent, loathsome, detestable, asinine, foul, lamentable, intolerable,
and oppressive.
 Cultural estrangement and the emotions 129
An anticipation of contempt
Disdain, as a noun, is defined as the feeling directed towards that which one thinks
“unworthy of notice or beneath one’s dignity; scorn, contempt,” and also “holding
or treating [another] as vile and worthless; as a verb, to regard or treat with con-
tempt” (Oxford). A feeling of contempt is thus interior to the more general feeling
state, disdain. Contempt, as we saw in Chapters 6 and 8, includes in its meaning
a feeling of disgust for that which is vile or worthy only of scorn. Anger, also
interior to contempt, is a mental attitude or feeling and/or action of indignation, in
the present case, directed at some aspect of culture or at social trends or develop-
ments. Such actions directed toward what is despised and disdained imply anger
and its associated behavior of moving toward, while the objects are rejected and
avoided. Given that contempt = anger & disgust, it follows by substituting this
definition into disdain1, that

Disdain4 = Anticipation & Contempt

Treating aspects of culture, or bearers of culture, with contempt has been shown
to have an anticipatory nature, as the production of cultural criticism involves
strategies of alienation, and the addition of anticipation distinguishes anger from
aggressiveness. Monroe (1998:5) explains that, for the culturally alienated, the
here-and-now is not good enough, and a strategy of alienation heeds a call from
some transcendental source of creativity in which doubt and discomfort about
the way things are lead to a manifestation of alienation that can defamiliarize
language, disrupt affiliations, and scandalize through unmasking the smug vanity
and complacency existing in a world of exploitation, pain, suffering, and cruelty.
Such artistic, literary, and theoretical productions praise disconnection, detach-
ment, demythologizing, and alienation. These performances of alienation can be
corrosive, destructive, and vicious, or they can possess the virtue of contributing
functional responses to dysfunctional cultural situations and meaning systems.
This level of contempt is informed by Douglas’s (2002) distinction between purity
and danger. To show contempt for one’s culture is a pollution-rejecting strategy
protective of one’s purity and superiority. Using the extreme example of cult mem-
bers, Elshtain (1997:23; cited in Monroe 1998:207) describes “a pattern of insula-
tion, isolation, paranoia, and utter contempt for those outside,” thereby manifesting
contra mundum, an opposition to the anticipated dangers of being contaminated
by exposure to the disgustingly polluted sociocultural world.

Cultural estrangement2 as failure to ‘live up to’ cultural

values
Having explicated the meaning of CE1 and modeled its affective basis, we next
conduct a parallel analysis of CE2. There are rewards and protections afforded by
the endorsement of, and living in accordance with, the dominant values and beliefs
of one’s culture and society. Conforming individuals can feel secure in realizing an
130 Emotions basic to alienation
intrinsic human need for a sense of belongingness (Baumeister and Leary 1995),
develop an adequate level of self-esteem (Cozzarelli and Karafa 1998:255), and be
buffered, to some extent, from feelings of existential dread and related anxieties
pertaining to human finitude. Maintaining such a buffer, terror-management theo-
rists (TMT) (Greenberg, Pyszczynski and Solomon 1986; Jonas and Fischer 2006)
have argued, is of great importance, such that people will expend considerable effort
defending or protecting both their valued cultural beliefs and their self-esteem.
But why is such buffering and striving even necessary? The work of Ernest
Becker (1962, 1973), and more indirectly existentialism and TMT, have shown
that the human capability for reasoning can lead individuals to the realization of a
harsh truth, that the world is an unpredictable and disorderly place, wherein their
own eventual death is the only certainty. TMT regards culture as a tool for coping
with existential concerns (Kashima 2010). The experience of existential anxiety is
universal to humans, who are aware of and apt to fear their own mortality. Con-
templating death can be a frightening experience, and culture can buffer mortality-
related anxieties by providing individuals with plausible explanations of reality that
imbue the world with meaning (Cozzarelli and Karafa 1998:254). TMT shows that
anxiety–self-esteem buffers can be effective only insofar as (i) there is a firm belief
in the validity of the dominant cultural worldview and associated standards and
values, and (ii) there is a belief that one is meeting, or ‘measuring up to’, those stan-
dards and values. Thus, while all humans experience existential anxiety, without the
buffering provided by a meaningful experience of living up to value expectations,
the experience of existential anxiety can be exacerbated.
The fully enculturated individual might strive to eclipse the reality of the gap
between his or her real self and its sometimes errant behaviors, and the ideal self
that never lies, cheats, steals, gives in to temptations of the flesh, or otherwise
‘sins’. Another domain of self-doubt, and a feeling of personal failure, can be
found in socioeconomic underperformance. For example, an individual who is
unskilled, unemployed, or under-employed and unable to support his or her family
is apt to lack self-esteem and self-respect. When one loses confidence in a meaning
system, or recognizes one’s shortcomings, one is no longer protected or buffered
and can experience a painful, anxiety-provoking emotional state, sinking into an
alienated state of CE2. This is characterized by a terrifying loss of buffering of
existential anxiety and a lowered level of self-esteem.

Existential dread as a tertiary emotion

Dread can be conceptualized as a complex emotion, and is hypothesized to be the
affective basis of CE2. The affective aspect of this kind of estrangement from value
systems is included in the broader concept of existential angst. The meaning of
angst (from the Danish angst and the German Angst) spans anxiety, apprehensive-
ness, inner turmoil, anguish, fear, and dread. Dread, a narrower term than angst, is
an intense, aberrant emotion that has long been topical in existential philosophy,
psychiatry, and education, and more recently has been considered in behavioral
economics and affective neuroscience. Kierkegaard (1844), in The Concept of
 Cultural estrangement and the emotions 131
Dread, and other existentialists emphasized the importance of critical moments of
life when basic truths about human existence shock us into awareness of finitude
and of the consequences of our beliefs and decisions. While fear is expressed
through a recoiling before a specific danger (including some genuine psychic fac-
tor active within the mind (Grimsley 1956:246)), dread is an emotion that need not
have an object, or can have experiences of nothingness as its object.
Kierkegaard’s (1844) existentialism focused on the uncertainty and ambiguity
of human destiny, and explained how the human condition creates a sense of dread.
Existential dread has been seen as a threat to high school and college students’ pro-
ductivity, self-esteem, and propensity for suicide (Ellsworth 1999). Inhibition of
or distraction from the dread-inducing ramifications evoked by suicidal intentions
increases the chances of suicidal action (Spiegel and Neuringer 1963). Dread has
been linked to fearful paranoia in schizophrenics and to anxiety disorders (Howes
and Kapur 2009). Dread has recently become topical in the neurosciences, where
it has been found that both appetitive and fearful motivations involve interactions
between dopamine and glutamate in overlapping mesocortical circuits that con-
verge on the nucleus accumbens, the pleasure center in mammalian, and therefore
human, brains (Berridge and Kringelbach 2013).
Given the importance of dread, it is surprising that its meaning is typically either
glossed over or carelessly used as synonymous with threat-processing emotions such
as fear, terror, anxiety, alarm, awe, and angst. Dreaded states of the self can include
traumatic events such as object loss, e.g., the death of a sibling; parental divorce;
family moves with the resultant loss of peers and relatives; assaultive experiences
such as rape and incest; the experience of warfare; the dread of the epileptic experi-
encing a pre-seizure ‘aura’; the helpless feeling of the onset of uncontrollable tem-
per tantrums; the anticipation of the recurrence of a systemic illness; the delirium
tremors of the alcoholic; and the anticipation of the elderly of becoming helpless,
dependent, and being moved into an assisted-living facility (Koch 2000:301, 303–4).
Most contemporary researchers who study dread concede that it is a complex
emotion. If so, it should be possible to find its primary components. Dread does not
appear among the primary or secondary emotions (TenHouten 2013b:16–18), so if
it is indeed an emotion, it must be a tertiary-level emotion. According to Oxford,
dread, from the Early Middle English dreden, means extreme fear, apprehension
or anxiety as to future events, and deep awe or reverence. Dread is synonymous
with ‘alarm’, and dreadful means ‘awe-inspiring’, ‘awful’, ‘terrible’, and ‘terrify-
ing’. Thus, while fear is interior to dread, the addition of ‘awe’, which is defined
in terms of ‘anxiety’, ‘terror’, and ‘horror’, suggests that the concept of dread
bears a greater intensity and a stronger unconscious underpinning than fear (Koch
2000:291). Koch adds that dread can be further understood as a supercharged,
overwhelming, horrendous, affective experience, which serves a signal function,
one that alerts one to potential recurrence of some fearsome reality. The inclusion
of ‘alert’ – which is strongly synonymous with the more general term, ‘alarm’,
rounds out the definition of dread in terms of less complex emotions. With this
extended definition, we now explore the component primary (and secondary) emo-
tions that might belong to dread.
132 Emotions basic to alienation
Phenomenologically, anxiety is a psycho-physiological feeling associated with
fear of the occurrence of an event. While Freud (1936) saw anxiety not as future-
oriented but rather as a consequence of the individual’s developmental history,
personality theorists (Allport 1955; Kelly 1963) and reinforcement sensitivity
theorists (Gray and McNaughton 2000) have appreciated the anticipatory nature of
anxiety as a signal of impending threat requiring a self-protection response. Krauss
(1967) clearly defines anxiety as fear or dread of a future event. Plutchik ([1962]
1991:118) also suggested that “fear + expectancy = anxiety . . .” (but then, unfor-
tunately, added “+ caution, dread, cowardliness, distrust” to his definition). Given
these definitional efforts, anxiety can be defined as a secondary emotion, so that,

Anxiety = Anticipation & Fear

Anxiety Buffer Disruption Theory (Pyszczynski and Kesebir 2011) is an applica-

tion of TMT, which proposed that debilitating anxiety triggered by danger, trauma,
and dread of mortality can be ‘buffered’ by clinging to one’s cultural worldview;
together with cultural norms and moral values, this infuses life with meaning,
confers self-esteem, and provides a sense of control. It is when the assumptions
underlying such fragile cultural constructs weaken worldviews, that symptoms of
trauma, even post-traumatic stress disorder, signal that anxiety buffers have been
disrupted (Edmondson et al. 2011).
Awe and alarm can be considered together. While Plutchik’s efforts to define
anxiety and dread were not effective, his definition, “surprise + fear = alarm,
awe,” is defensible (Plutchik [1962] 1991:118). Awe of the putatively supernatu-
ral realms, the habitat of gods and souls, is clearly implicated in religious dread.
According to Oxford, awe derives from words in Old English and Old Norse used
to express fear and dread, particularly toward a divine being. English usage of
this term gradually began to connote dread mingled with veneration, reverential
or respectful fear, the attitude of a mind subdued to profound reverence in the
presence of supreme authority, moral greatness, sublimity, or mystical sordid-
ness. According to Keltner and Haidt (2003), perceived vastness, together with an
inability to assimilate the experience into one’s current mental structure or coher-
ence representation, can result in a surprising apprehension of the unfathomable
at the boundaries of fear; in turn, this can profoundly alter the course of a life. The
astonishing, the awe-inspiring, much concerns territorial boundaries. Anticipating
Plutchik by two centuries, Edmund Burke (2008) in 1757 linked awe, by which he
meant experience of the sublime, to both surprise and fear. He argued that sublime
experience results from obscurity, so that while objects that are anticipated do not
produce this experience, objects that the mind can grasp only with great difficulty
do. For example, Burke refers to the despotic leader who remains hidden to the
public to enhance his power, and to features of artistic production that communi-
cate vastness, magnificence, infinity, together with certain properties of color and
light that both suggest and obscure power. Thus, awe contains elements of both
surprise and fear and can be defined, together with alarm, as a secondary emotion:

Alarm, Awe = Surprise & Fear

 Cultural estrangement and the emotions 133
Alarm is an adaptive reaction to danger, pain, and the prospect of social
estrangement. More generally, it is an affective signal of response to aggression
or other potential dangers. It is an orienting response to violation of and threats
to one’s selfhood, reputation, and territory. Such an orienting response defines
surprise; the individual’s self-protective reaction to the impending threat or chal-
lenge is definitive of fear. Alarm is stimulated by the joint negative experiences of
territoriality (the source of surprise) and hierarchy (the source of fear). Plutchik
sees the combination of surprise and fear as the primary emotional components
of alarm. We have defined aggression as a combination of anticipation and anger
(e.g., a planned attack); given that the opposite of anticipation is surprise and the
opposite of anger is fear, it follows that alarm is the opposite of and a reaction to
a threatening situation. Alarm, according to its French derivation all’arme, means
‘to arms’, as it is an arousing to meet, and hopefully repel, an attack. There is
obviously an element of fear in being the object of a surprise attack by a foe or
enemy.
To this point, it has been argued that anxiety, awe, and alarm are definitively
descriptive of dread. All three of these emotions can be seen as complex, second-
ary emotions. Anxiety is comprised of anticipation and fear, while both awe and
alarm are comprised of surprise and fear. Thus, these three secondary emotions
share three primary emotions – fear, anticipation, and surprise, suggesting that
dread can be conceptualized as a tertiary emotion:

Dread1 = Anticipation & Fear & Surprise

We have now identified the primary emotions associated with disdain and dread,
the hypothesized bases of CE1 and CE2, as shown in Figure 9.1.

Acceptance

Identity
Joy–Happiness Surprise
CE2
Temporality
CE1
Anger !
Hierarchy Fear
CE2
Territoriality
CE1
Anticipation Sadness
CE2
CE1
Disgust

Figure 9.1 Plutchik’s 1962 circumplex or ‘wheel’ of the eight primary emotions, with tags
on the emotions of cultural estangement1 (CE1) and cultural estrangement2 (CE2)
134 Emotions basic to alienation
Given this first definition of dread, it now becomes possible to further concep-
tualize dread as a combination of each one of the above primary emotions mixed
with the secondary emotion comprised of the other two primaries. Note that we
have not yet defined the combination of anticipation and surprise, but this can
easily be done.

Anticipation of alarm–awe
Given that fear & surprise = alarm–awe, it follows that

Dread2 = Anticipation & Alarm–Awe

Here, anticipation serves as a signal function of dread, that is, the anticipation
of recurrence of the dreaded experience lest it overwhelm one anew (Koch
2000:299). The contemporary psychoanalytic literature on attachment (Bowlby
1969) and trauma (Herman 1992) contains searching accounts of the horror and
terror experienced by children who have been physically and/or sexually abused,
resulting in a dissociated state of mind, or a splitting, a fragmenting, of the ego.
These violated individuals live with a consuming wariness of the terror being
revived again, which Koch (2000:300) calls a reminder of the anticipatory func-
tion of dread. When traumatic events occur in the life of an individual, they tend
to be sudden, unexpected, and surprising. These events are the stuff of nightmares,
and remembering them can place one in danger of reexperiencing what was trau-
matic. On this, Koch (2000:301) observes that such a danger becomes defensively
anticipated, i.e., dreaded, lest one is again overwhelmed by the unmanageable.
In this statement, Koch links the complex emotion of dread to the primary emo-
tion anticipation, and he sees anticipatory dread as an adaptive process. We have
argued that the emotional bases of the several varieties of alienation, including
existential angst, are indeed manifestations of efforts to adapt to unpleasant situ-
ations. A looming crisis that induces a sense of dread can, as Koch (2000:301–2)
notes, mobilize creative solutions, [which] reminds us of the mysteriousness of the
adaptive process. Koch (2000:301) adds that the sense of dread, the anticipation
of involuntarily reexperiencing old dangers, hated images, and traumatic events,
becomes particularly salient at time of life-cycle transition, when one is about to
embark on a new phase of life – from going off to college, choosing a career, or
ending a relationship, to coming to know the infirmities of old age. In the present
classification, the primary emotion, anticipation, by itself is positively valenced,
and indeed in dread there is an aspect of anticipation that can be rewarding.
Alarm is a response to aggression, so that dread can take the form of anticipation
that one must mobilize a defense in the face of a possible attack. Dread can also
be seen as an anticipation of awe, as in the case of a dying person dreading the
prospect of ‘meeting his maker’. Koch (2000:313) correctly asserts, “The sense of
dread seems especially linked to aggression, external and internal,” and explains
that the violent aggressiveness of the overwhelming experiences is apt to be central
to the trauma itself.
 Cultural estrangement and the emotions 135
Surprise and anxiety
Surprise, as we have seen, is the emotional reaction to the negative experience of
territoriality. In the case of dread, the territory of the self is at issue, for dread can
be manifested in either the dreaded self or the dreaded state of the self (Koch 2000).
The dreaded self arises in dark moments when a thought, feeling, or action discloses
a hated, frightening, often disowned aspect of one’s self. This self-representation
is apt to be dimly realized, even shadowy yet awesome and uncanny, causing a
shudder as it reveals to the self what it is, at least in part, or could become. This
experience can lead to a protective response, a defensive effort to rid oneself of such
images and their affective associations (Koch 2000:290). There is a real danger that
this negative self-concept cannot be challenged and the self becomes desolate as it is
surrounded and then acquiesces to invasion by its darker, dreaded aspect. One such
manifestation is a dread of one’s own potentially uncontrollable impulses, including
a fear of being invaded or possessed by some devil or demon. In Erikson’s (1968)
conceptualization of personal identity, such an invasion of unconscious desires led
to the incorporation of “evil identity fragments.” In reality, these desires are already
part of the self; while repressed and disowned, they are capable of escape to the
conscious mind, where they can propel the self to develop character that threatens
its very existence. Facing the self’s disintegration or dissociation can evoke the
uncanny emotions of dread, awe, loathing, and horror, for “anxiety is not [a] strong
enough word here” (Winnicott 1974:104). The dreaded self is subject to more than
anxiety, as it can be violated, even subsumed, by its disowned aspects. This prospect
fills one with what Bion (1967:116) called a “nameless dread.”
Insofar as anticipation & fear = anxiety, dread can also be seen as

Dread3 = Surprise & Anxiety

The person in a state of dread thus experiences a fearful anticipation, that is, an
anxiety, that his or her boundaries, surroundings, or territory might be violated and
thereby suffer harm. Thus, sex workers might dread the HIV virus invading their
bodies, coal miners might fear a cave-in, and the inhabitants of a fortified village
might fear an invading army breaching their walls to rape, mutilate, torture, or kill
them. Michael Burke et al. (2011) review studies of dread in terms of risks associated
with different types of hazardous events involving physical boundaries in work sites
(e.g., cave-ins and explosions that could injure or kill coal miners) and exposures
(e.g., of workers to toxic chemicals, radiation, hazardous events) that can be of an
ominous nature. Burke et al. (2011) report that, when workers live in intense dread-
ful apprehension of such injury/illness vulnerability, their affects and cognitions can
motivate highly engaged learning of safety-related behavior; this can reduce their
level of dread and avoid the potential negative consequences associated with inaction.

A fearful confusion
A secondary emotion can be formed from the remaining pair of primary emotions
belonging to dread, anticipation and surprise. Plutchik ignored the combination
136 Emotions basic to alienation
anticipation–surprise (and the other three ‘antithetical dyads’, or pairs of opposite
primary emotions). Yet, these four combinations of opposite primaries can be given
substantively meaningful definitions (TenHouten 2007:102–12). When one antici-
pates one outcome, then is surprised that another occurs instead, one is thrown into
a momentary state of confusion or discombobulation. The confused person is one
whose model of the world has just failed. Even the most rational individual can
expect to experience moments of confusion as they contemplate complexities, and,
especially, that which cannot be fathomed. The following definition can be proposed:

Confusion = Anticipation & Surprise

This definition (TenHouten 2007:107–10) of confusion is the sixth and final sec-
ondary emotion interpreted as a component of a kind of cultural estrangement. A
summary of these definitions is presented in Figure 9.2.

Given this definition of confusion, a fourth variant of dread can be defined:

Dread4 = Fear & Confusion

Confusion can occur when one experiences the terror of apprehending one’s
“dreaded self-representation” (Koch 2000:292n1). Koch uses the literary example
of Ivan Karamazov in Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov. A ‘rational man’,
Karamazov finds himself acting in atypical, dystonic ways, as he catches frighten-
ing glimpses of himself as a ‘scoundrel’, an image similar to that of his debauched,
despised father. Soon, he has regressed into a state of confusion and torment about
the nature of his self, eventually sinking into madness. This form of dread – a
fearful confusion – is most apt to occur when the nature of a perceived threat is
not well understood, as medieval villagers lived in dread of shadowy entities such

A. Primary and secondary emotions of disdain B. Primary and secondary emotions of dread

Cynicism Aggressiveness Confusion Anxiety

Anticipation Anticipation

Disdainfulness Dread
Disgust Anger Surprise Fear

Contempt Alarm

Figure 9.2 Emotional components of disdainfulness and dread; affective bases of cultural
estrangement1 and cultural estrangement2
 Cultural estrangement and the emotions 137
as werewolves, witches, vampires, and especially the Devil, an awesome figure
who inspired a religious awe, but whose existence in an individual’s mind could
be understood as a projected personification of one’s own agency (Bakan 1966).
In his analysis of subjective dread, Kierkegaard ([1844] 1957:54–72) likened
dread to dizziness, as felt by someone standing on the edge of an abyss. The expe-
rienced dizziness results from the freedom of gazing down upon all possibilities,
including an act that would insure one’s finitude. At this point, one’s freedom
shrinks to nothingness, the no thing, the object of dread. The moment of dread is
egoistic as one considers the possibility of all outcomes and courses of action; this
throws one into confusion and ambiguity. Kierkegaard’s discussion of subjective
dread, in fact, makes numerous references to a state of confusion; it is a state of
mind where one is confused about the nothingness one fears, an uncertainty about
a deep fear that is an emotion with no object.

Discussion
CE1 and CE2 are very different orientations to one’s culture. Yet this distinction is
not proposed as a classification of individual persons. The same individual can feel
critical of and superior to certain aspects of his or her culture (such as consumer-
ism), yet also feel he or she has not ‘lived up to’ norms of individual responsibility
and accomplishment that are endorsed or even admired. Figure 9.3 displays two

A. A model of ‘superiority’ cultural estrangement1, disdain and its constituent

primary and secondary emotions, and selected consequences
High Self-Esteem

Anti-Consumerism
Anger & Anticipation & Disgust & Artistic, Literary, and
Cynicism Contempt Aggressiveness Scientific Creativity
Concern for Nature and
‘Superiority’ Cultural the Environment
Disdain Consequences
Estrangement1 Alloplastic
Nonconformity
!
Experience of Personal
Uniqueness

B. A model of ‘inferiority’ or ‘insecurity’ cultural estrangement2, dread and its Low Self-Esteem
constituent primary and secondary emotions, and selected possible consequences
Morbidity, Mortality,
Suicidality

Surprise & Anticipation & Fear–Terror & Low Sense of

Anxiety Alarm/Awe !
Confusion Belongingness

Low Life-Satisfaction
‘Inferiority’ Cultural Egoistic Expression of
Estrangement2 Dread Consequences Freedom, Possibilities

Worldview Insecurity

Figure 9.3 Causal models for two kinds of cultural estrangement

138 Emotions basic to alienation
causal models linking CE1 and CE2, via their hypothesized emotional bases, to
their likely consequences.
Individuals who experience erosion of the buffering functions of meaning sys-
tems, and who feel that their socioeconomic performance has not met expecta-
tions, can be exposed to terrifying thoughts of death and retribution for their sins,
misdeeds, or shortcomings. As modeled here, ‘terror’ has a far narrower meaning
than the interpretation it enjoys in TMT; TMT makes a conceptual contribution to
our analysis of cultural estrangement, but we intend this analysis as contributing
not to TMT, but to alienation theory. By ‘terror’, we refer to an intense experience
of a single primary emotion, fear, seen as a component of a tertiary emotion, dread.
Dread, as modeled here, includes not only fear but also anticipation and surprise.
The resulting secondary emotions, anxiety, alarm–awe, and confusion, can each
combine with a primary emotion, or with each other, to form pathways to dread.
Dread has many unfortunate consequences, but also provides a necessary human
experience of awe at the grandeur of nature, the reality of human life, and the hard
fact of death and the end of existence.
While Plutchik ([1962] 1991:118–19) endeavored to classify the secondary
emotions, as we have seen throughout this book, his effort was not entirely suc-
cessful. In the analysis of cultural estrangement, we have been able to use just
two of his definitions of secondary emotions, cynicism and alarm–awe. We have
proposed original definitions of four other secondary emotions – aggressiveness,
contempt, anxiety, and confusion. Plutchik defined no tertiary emotions, and the
four definitions of disdain and dread proposed here are also original. With this
definitional scheme, we have attempted to establish a theoretical formulation of
the affective bases of cultural estrangement.

Note
1 Seeman (1959) defines “mass society” as comprised of five structural or objective social
elements: (i) large-scale bureaucratic organizations; (ii) task and occupational special-
ization; (iii) high social mobility; (iv) impersonality of social relationships; and (v) an
overall increase in scale, or bigness, of society. These conditions of mass society and
culture lead individuals to have little control in the work process, a lack of integration
with complex organizations, and low access to reward values.
10 The emotions of powerlessness

Introduction
Social power is arguably the central concept of the social sciences (Haugaard and
Clegg 2013). Wielded by nation-states, complex organizations, and individuals,
power denotes social actors’ ability to influence or control events and outcomes,
and to act in their own interests despite resistance from others (Weber [1921]
1978:53). While there has been much emphasis on power (Lukes 1974; Foucault
1975; Gaventa 1982), and the closely related topics of authority (Sennett 1980)
and domination (Gramsci 1971; Scott 1990; Bourdieu 1998; Sidanius and Pratto
1999), powerlessness has received far less attention. Powerlessness means being
subjected to domination by others and unable to live according to the dictates of
one’s judgment and nature. Lukes ([1974] 2005) identifies three levels of power-
lessness: (i) powerlessness in a context of decision-making; (ii) a lack of control
over an agenda, or lacking the power to decide what is to be decided, so that
grievances are not expressed; and (iii) a level of being dominated that goes beyond
Weber’s successful imposition of legitimate orders, to mean “subjection-inducing
acquiescence, where power is an imposition or constraint, working against the
interest of those subject to it” (Lukes [1974] 2005:12). This chapter aims to
(i) clarify the distinction between objective and subjective levels of powerlessness
and (ii) analyze subjective ‘feelings’ or ‘sentiments’ of powerlessness in terms of
specific emotions.

Objective and subjective powerlessness in alienation theory

We will briefly comment on the cognitive aspects of subjective powerlessness, and
then turn to our main theoretical intention, the identification and description of the
affective concomitants of powerlessness. The cognitive concomitants of social
powerlessness are well documented. These include a general sense of uncertainty
together with a limited reliance on thought processes (Briñol et al. 2007), a dimin-
ished capability for abstract thought (H. Smith and Trope 2006), and a reduced
ability to accurately estimate others’ interests (Keltner and Robinson 1997). Indi-
viduals high on powerlessness typically do not seek to acquire potentially useful
140 Emotions basic to alienation
information, in part because they believe they cannot productively use such infor-
mation (e.g., Seeman and Evans 1962). Experimental studies indicate that indi-
viduals subjectively experiencing powerlessness lack both interest in international
affairs (Seeman 1966) and political knowledge (e.g., Seeman 1971). Members
of powerless groups typically lack the language and analytic skills necessary for
grasping their own interests, and can consequently be rendered unable to mobilize
the grassroots structures that would enable access to political competition (Lukes
1974; Gaventa 1982). Powerlessness can generate maladaptive cognitive orienta-
tions, including low self-esteem, low success expectations, and weak motivation
for self-advancement (Obligacion 1996). It can contribute to a sense of distrust
and the amplification of perceived threat (Ross, Mirowsky and Pribesh 2001), pro-
mote conspiracy theories (Crocker et al. 1999), and increase attention to peripheral
information, inducing distractibility and reducing attentional flexibility (Guinote
2007). Comparatively less social-scientific analysis addresses the feelings, senti-
ments, and emotions basic to the personal experience of powerlessness.

The emotional basis of subjective powerlessness

Seeman (1972:503, 511) suggests that powerlessness involves fatalism, pessimism,
and anxiety. Using this as a beginning point, we develop a model of these and three
other emotions hypothesized to be the affective basis of powerlessness. Drawing
on emotions theory, we hypothesize that the specific emotions that comprise the
affective level of subjective powerlessness are (i) basic or primary, and (ii) second-
order pairings of these primary emotions. We postulate that four primary emotions
are interior to powerlessness, namely sadness, fear, acceptance–acquiescence,
and anticipation–expectation. The rationale for inclusion of these emotions will
be presented, and we then further propose that the six secondary emotions defined
as the pairings of these primary emotions form the affective basis of subjective
powerlessness.

The four primary emotions of powerlessness

Sadness
Sadness has been linked to a deficiency in personal control over one’s environ-
ment (H. Smith and Elsworth 1985). Individuals experiencing sadness are likely
to view outcomes as governed by situational forces and chance, rather than a result
of their own actions. Research has shown that efforts to establish a modicum of
personal control can reduce the experience of sadness; for example, even the bit
of control over one’s environment provided by shopping decisions can reduce
sadness levels, a phenomenon called “retail therapy” (Rick, Pereira and Burson
2014). Belief in an external locus of control, an aspect of powerlessness, is an
important factor in the development of clinical-level sadness, that is, of depression
(which is associated with a phenomenological flattening of object-perception and
self-perception) (Kunzendorf et al. 2010). The perception of being subjected to
 The emotions of powerlessness 141
an external locus of control has been found to increase sadness and clinical-level
depression (P. Gilbert 1992).

Fear
Fear is the adaptive reaction to the negative experience of social hierarchy (Plut-
chik 1962); it is a reaction to the exercise of power which is seen as damaging
the welfare and interests of the powerless. Powerlessness can induce dysfunc-
tional habits, low expectations, and fears that deform individuals’ choices and
even wishes for their own lives (Nussbaum 2000:114). Out of prudence, fear, and
the desire to curry favor, public performances of the powerless are often shaped to
appeal to the expectations of the powerful (Lukes [1974] 2005:126), while accept-
ing the social order’s status quo as natural and inevitable (Scott 1990:72). Fear
is an adaptive reaction, and continuing defeats of the powerless lead to a lack of
challenge and to a pattern of withdrawal from competition either on economic or
ideological grounds, in part as an effort to escape the unpleasant subjective sense
of powerlessness (Freire 1970). The prospect of challenging a dominant elite can
result in fear of defeat and subsequent reprisal. Gaventa (1982) illustrates the
role of fear in powerless Appalachian coal miners, for example, were hesitant to
complain about their working conditions or the condition of the environment, or
to organize unions, out of fear for their lives, homes, and jobs; the consequences
of resistance could be a loss of food stamps, loss or credit at the company store, or
being beaten (Heavener 1978; Gurr 1979). Gaventa (1982:206) quotes a local post-
mistress, referring to the industrial capitalists who control their lives, who said,

Everybody’s afraid of them . . . and nobody would dare say anything to them
because if they did they would be reprimanded, they’d have to move out of
their home, or they’d lose their job or they’d be persecuted in some form.

Acceptance–acquiescence
Acceptance, by itself, is considered a positive emotion associated with the incor-
poration of resources or social involvements with other persons or groups. Accep-
tance of social powerlessness has received considerable attention in ethology but
not in the sociology of emotions. Animal researchers have found that losers in
skirmishes with conspecifics (usually taking place at territorial boundaries) who
are able to escape their situations experience minimal consequences. But if there
is no escape, losers become depressed, droopy, even paralyzed, and are apt to
experience a ‘coming to grief’ as a result of having their rank in a status hierar-
chy, or ‘pecking order’, reduced (Schjelderup-Ebbe 1935). A state of defeat trig-
gers a “yielding subroutine of ritualistic agonistic behaviour” (Price and Sloman
1987). MacLean (1985) noted that reptiles who lose rank then lose their bright
coloring and die shortly thereafter. In human society, individuals can find them-
selves enslaved, incarcerated, trapped in poverty, excluded from full participation
in society, or experience an eroded value system. All of these situations involve
142 Emotions basic to alienation
powerlessness together with the inability to escape, which compels acceptance of
situations in which opportunity for resource competition is lacking; the result can
be dysphoria, deterioration of mental and physical health, mortality and morbid-
ity, and inability to acquire resources and opportunities (Wilkinson and Pickett
2009). In dogs and humans, uncontrollable, inescapable trauma leads to a patho-
logical state of “learned helplessness” (Seligman 1975; Gilbert 1992:174–80).
For humans, acceptance, or acquiescence, can come about as a result of the most
blatant forms of exploitation, which can make allies out of the exploited, so that,
“Discontent is replaced by acceptance, hopeless rebellion by conformist quiet,
and suffering . . . by cheerful endurance” (Sen 1984:309). Acquiescence to domi-
nation has been described as a necessity for the effective exercise of political
power (Santayana 1951:415–21). For those subject to inescapable power or domi-
nation, acquiescence is an aspect of adapting to rank-degrading or exploitative
situations. Referring to members of coal-mining communities in an Appalachian
valley, Gaventa (1982:93) argued that their “enforced quiescence over a period
of time tended to develop internalized acceptance of the appropriate relationship
of the led to the leaders.” And Gaventa (1982:94) adds, “Where leadership was
not to be questioned and exit was not a choice, then loyalty was the only response
possible.” These descriptions of the acceptance of domination by the powerless
were articulated in Hegel’s master–slave dialectic, wherein the initial stage of the
slave’s status as a slave “is the result of his contingently having come to accept
the subjective point of view of the master as normative for his own point of view”;
this being-for-another is motivated by “the fear and anxiety he felt for his life
in the initial struggle for recognition.” The circumstances of the slave are but
contingent circumstances that the slave has internalized as authoritatively “gov-
erning the social acceptance of certain standards of warranted beliefs” (Pinkard
1996:63, emphasis added).

Anticipation–expectation
Anticipation, by itself, is a positive emotional state (Panksepp 1998). But in the
case of social powerlessness, it can involve an invalidation of positive expectations
about goal attainment, so that expectations become negative psychological experi-
ences, as they are joined to other affective states. Having experienced difficulties
in meeting goals and feeling discouraged about competitive endeavors, the pow-
erless individual internalizes the feeling that “he or she lacks the power (means,
skills, resources, enabling conditions) to realize” goals and “manage situations”
(Miceli and Castelfranchi 2015:77–8). Apprehending that any “positive expecta-
tions relative to intentions which one feels he or she lacks the power to realize”
will create a discouraging situation, in which the individual seeing successful goal
seeking as unattainable will disengage from the pursuit of competition for goals
and resources. This general idea has been developed by Carver and Scheier’s
(1982) control theory, which links powerlessness to disengagement from pursuing
intentions as a means of reducing awareness of discrepancy between the intended
and the present state, where insurmountable obstacles and interruptions degrade
 The emotions of powerlessness 143
outcome expectancies and thereby inducing discouragement and disengagement
from attempts to attain goals. Of course, even these most disadvantaged and pow-
erless must participate in institutional settings where progress is both expected and
evaluated, as in educational settings. For those whose rate of progress is slow, and
slower than expected by those who evaluate, feelings of discouragement and dis-
engagement will be experienced during the processes of learning, writing essays,
and taking tests.

The six secondary emotions of subjective powerlessness

We proposed that the six secondary-level emotions of powerlessness are fatalism,
pessimism, resignation, anxiety, submissiveness, and shame. We begin with the
one positively valenced emotional component of the sentiment of subjective pow-
erlessness which pairs the two positively valenced primary emotions (acceptance–
acquiescence and anticipation–expectation), which, on its affective level, will be
interpreted as fatalism, or a sense of destiny.

Fatalism
The feeling of powerlessness is characterized by a low expectancy that one can
control the attainment of personal and social rewards, together with the percep-
tion that control is rather “vested in external forces, powerful others, luck, or fate”
(Seeman 1972:472). Fatalism is not ordinarily regarded as an emotion but clearly
possesses affective content; it can indeed be seen as a secondary emotion. Fatal-
ism can be conceptualized as a special case of resourcefulness, which has been
modeled (TenHouten 2007:85–8) as a mixture of anticipation and acceptance,
and their associated functions of exploration and incorporation, respectively. On
the functional level, resourceful individuals are able to go into and explore their
environments, locate resources, and then incorporate these resources. Fatalism, we
propose, is a special case of resourcefulness, wherein resources are hoped to be
gained not by one’s own effort, but by some ineffable external agent.
Plutchik ([1962] 1991:118) was not mistaken when he proposed that “expectancy +
acceptance = fatalism.” For present purposes, we propose that expectancy & acqui-
escence = fatalism. This essentially means that an individual will expect having no
choice but acquiesce to whatever might happen, whether fortunate or unfortunate,
because important life outcomes are seen as either predetermined or controlled
by the will of unseen, powerful entities or forces, or by fully visible, powerful
others. A sense of powerlessness, Gaventa (1982:17) observes, “may manifest
itself as an extensive fatalism, self-deprecation, or undue apathy.” Fatalism and
the closely related term ‘destiny’ refer to a belief in the nearly inevitable succes-
sion of events whose outcome can be favorable or unfavorable. Gramsci (1971)
saw subordination as entailing a relation of domination, such that those subjected
to hegemonic forces are deprived of their self-reliance, which he described both
as an objective condition of powerlessness and as a view of oneself as hostage to
an ineffable destiny.
144 Emotions basic to alienation
The fatalist believes that a person’s future, be it ‘lucky’ or not, is brought about
not by the person’s efforts, knowledge, talents, and capabilities, but through some
subtle external agency. The fatalist, invoking the lazy-reasoning principle of
ignava ratio, might say, “If God wants me to win the lottery, I will win the lot-
tery.” While the long odds of winning a lottery, as calculated by probability theory,
renders investment irrational, the person who sees a possible win as an act of God
or Fate sees the odds as much better, because as ethnographic research has shown,
almost all people feel they are trying to do what is right or good, see themselves
as making an effort to be morally deserving, and believe that God rewards moral
behavior (Lambek 2010:1). The lottery, the fatalist believes, is predetermined,
or predestined, by an agency beyond human control, which in addition to God
might be called Lady Luck, the Wheel of Fortune, astrological alignment, lucky
or unlucky numbers, or predestination (see Weber [1904–5] 2002:82, 198n46,
202n76).
It is no accident that the most economically disadvantaged and powerless indi-
viduals are prone to investing their scarce resources in lotteries, gambling, and
games of chance (Blalock, Just and Simon 2007). In its simplest form, Veblen
([1899] 1931:280) explained, belief in luck “is this instinctive sense of an inscru-
table teleological propensity in objects or situations.” Veblen defined this as a
simple animism, which shades by gradation into a second, derivative, “more or
less articulated belief in an inscrutable [spiritual or] preternatural agency, . . .
which partakes of the attributes of personality to the extent of somewhat arbitrarily
influencing the outcome of any enterprise, and especially of any contest” (Veblen
[1899] 1931:280). There is a moral dimension to this belief, as the subtle agent
who wields an unseen hand is often believed to be concerned with the equity or
legality of the contestants’ claims. This is articulated in the maxim, “Thrice he is
armed who knows his quarrel just.” Veblen added that the worker subject to the
lowest level of such animistic thinking is not apt to engage in effective causal
thinking, which reduces performance at work and engagement in critical analysis
of his objective economic situation, and “will therefore palpably affect his think-
ing at every turn of . . . life,” which provides the perplexed individual “a refuge,”
“a fund of comfort,” and “a means of escape from the difficulty of accounting for
phenomena in terms of causal sequence” (Veblen [1899] 1931:286–7).

Pessimism
Plutchik ([1962] 1991:118) proposed that, “sorrow + expectancy = pessimism.”
This formula can be restated slightly, as pessimism = expectation & sadness. This
simply means that powerless individuals have accepted a pessimistic view of their
futures and expect that things are not going to turn out well. Pessimists see the
future as out of their control, so that whatever happens must be passively accepted,
with one’s future apt to be seen as bleak and saddening. Individuals with a pessi-
mistic explanatory style systematically make negative attributions for undesirable
events by seeing such events as personal and internal (“It’s my fault.”), stable or
permanent (“It will never change.”), and global or pervasive (“I can’t do anything
 The emotions of powerlessness 145
right.”) (Abramson, Metalsky and Alloy 1989). The pessimistic explanatory style
has been linked to negative affectivity, and aversive emotional states are known to
be predictive of poor psychological adjustment (Luten, Ralph and Mineka 1997).
Inducing feelings of being powerful as opposed to powerless tends to foster
optimism and action (Anderson and Galinsky 2006). Optimism and pessimism
are prospective emotions that are half opposites (as optimism = anticipation &
joy–happiness), which show two opposite expectations of the quality of one’s
future, as there can be an expectation either that good things are going to hap-
pen (bonum futurum) or that bad things will occur (malum futurum) (Carver and
Scheier 2001). The pessimist believes that “If something can go wrong for me, it
will.” Optimism and pessimism are thus global orientations to the future, both for
oneself and for close others. These orientations are largely a matter of life quality,
which includes factors such as good social networks, realistic expectations and
aspirations, and satisfaction with experiences of work, leisure, family, and com-
munity (Headey and Wearing 1992). Dissatisfaction in any sphere of these and
related life-domains can be a cause of pessimism; pessimist is a saddening state
of being in which circumstances in general mean things are seen as not working
out, or not being good even they do.

Resignation
Powerful individuals, including those in executive positions, develop the ability to
envision desired future states of affairs and persist in carrying out plans for attain-
ing these anticipated goals, thereby turning their intentions into realities (Goldberg
2001). Powerless individuals, in contrast, are apt to anticipate only that outcomes
are beyond their control and react to goal blockage with a sense of frustration,
acquiescence, and resignation, as opposed to renewed goal-seeking behavior (see,
e.g., Van Steenburg, Spears and Fabrize 2013). In their study of miners of ‘Coal
Town’, Lantz and McCrary (1958; see also Alix and Lantz 1973) found a predomi-
nant “resignation,” rendering these miners unable to mobilize in their economic
self-interest; they did not conform to the view of the “economic rational, self-seeking
man.” Lantz and McCrary assume the existence of an open political system in
which these workers could participate. This unrealistic assumption places respon-
sibility for quiescent, apathetic resignation on the miners themselves, a failure of
effort by the powerless to display persistence and persuasion and to thereby attain
“successful adaptation,” which would transcend their being “a serious economic
burden for the country” (Plunkett and Bowman 1973). Anticipating that efforts for
a better future will lead only to failure and disappointment, the resigned individual
shrinks from goal attainment, develops resistance to change, and accepts the status
quo, even if the present situation is one of poverty and deprivation; such a situa-
tion is often adapted to by limiting one’s needs, becoming adverse to goal-oriented
activities, and not making plans for the future (O. Lewis 1966).
In normal life, individuals engage in search activities, displaying a broad and
holistic approach to behavior, adapting as best they can to their social environ-
ments. However, if search activity cannot be linked to an ability to predict the
146 Emotions basic to alienation
outcomes of such activity, either changing a problematic situation or adjusting
to it, search activity can be renounced, leading to deficits in problem-solving,
inadequate coping, and a drop in the activity of monoamines, all of which can
predispose an individual to what Weinberg (2000b) calls “the ultimate resigna-
tion,” suicidal thoughts and feelings, possibly suicide. Feelings of powerlessness,
then, are apt to include a profound sense of resignation and are a common sign of
suicide (Beck et al. 2005). Resignation comes about when an individual is faced
with unsolvable situations, where one’s reaction is giving up, surrender, fixation
upon obstacles, and feelings of hopelessness, together with renunciation of search
activities, which comprises a resignation reaction. In persistently distressing situ-
ations, an individual can lead to “a profound resignation to destiny because of an
awareness that when one needs help most, one’s cry for help will not be heard, or
if heard, will make no difference” (Tomkins 1963:99).
While resignation has cognitive content, it can also be seen as having an
emotional aspect. Focusing on the affective aspect of resignation, Plutchik
([1962] 1991:118) proposed a useful but problematic definition: “acceptance +
sorrow = resignation, sentimentality.” Sentimentality means to be moved eas-
ily by sentiments in a general way, and can be excluded from this formulation.
Resignation includes in its definition “passive acceptance” (Oxford). Ortony,
Clore and Collins (1988:131–2) link resignation to acceptance, as they assert:
“the focus of resignation is not on the [undesirable] event in question . . . but
on beliefs about likelihood and on a corresponding reluctant acceptance of the
event’s inevitability.” When a person is resigned to a powerless situation or to
the loss of a social position, there is withdrawal from a social field and conse-
quent feeling of loss. Moreover, “[i]n light of the profound negative evaluation
of our situation it contains, sadness is typically not associated with putting up
resistance but with passivity and resignation in the face of everyday affairs”
(Ben-Ze’ev 2000:466). Lazarus (1991), in his model of socioenvironmental
appraisal, identified a set of emotions dealing with loss or the threat of loss. If
there is active coping to avoid loss, to restore what has been lost, or to manage
the distress of loss, then “emotions of adaptational struggle” come into play.
But when such efforts fail, there will be a process of grieving, of intense sad-
ness. On this, Lazarus wrote:

Sadness belongs at the low end of the dimension of engagement and involves
resignation rather than struggle, at which time the person has been moving
toward acceptance of and disengagement from the lost commitment. . . .
Therefore, sadness is a step toward resignation, which emerges from a dif-
ficult coping struggle in which the emotional outlook is often contradictory,
fragile, and changing.
(1991:247, emphasis in original expanded)

Thus, resignation would appear to incorporate both acquiescence and sadness, so

that it can be defined, on its affective level, as a secondary emotion: resignation =
acquiescence & sadness.
 The emotions of powerlessness 147
Anxiety
Anxiety can be facilitative and motivate individuals to meet challenges, or debili-
tating, resulting in a fearful shrinking away from encounters or challenges. For
individuals who perceive themselves as powerless in their situation, anxiety is apt
to be debilitating (Lefcourt 1976:86–90). While anxiety can be elicited by inter-
nal threats such as inappropriate impulses, it can become a defensive mechanism
responsive to external threats. Anxiety, especially of the debilitating kind, involves
fear as a response to a threat in the external environment or a fear-provoking social
situation, thereby evoking a ‘flight’ response. While basic fear is largely concen-
trated in the present, we have seen that anxiety adds an anticipatory emphasis to
fear. Anxiety can either be focused on an objective situation or activity which is
avoided (phobia) or be unfocused and free-floating.
When social structures of power threaten the ability to meet basic human needs
for competence, self-esteem, and a benevolent world, the resulting trait-anxiety
can lead to various social-cognitive and impression-formation strategies in an
effort to cope with powerlessness or to establish a modicum of control (S. Fiske,
Morling and Stevens 1996). Mirowsky and Ross (1983; see also Geis and Ross
1998; Ross and Mirowsky 2009), in their study of life in threatening, noxious,
dangerous, and normatively disorderly neighborhoods, found a pervasive senti-
ment of powerlessness which was associated with high levels of mistrust, anxiety,
depression, and anger. Similarly, South Africans who endured violence during the
apartheid era (e.g., being attacked, having one’s house burned down) experienced
feelings of powerlessness, anxiety, depression, and low self-esteem (Hirschowitz
and Orkin 1997). Recent studies indicate that low social status, which carries the
message of social inferiority and powerlessness, heightens people’s social evalua-
tion anxieties, a process which has intensified as status and wealth differences have
increased; indeed, greater inequality has been accompanied by increased status
competition and increased status anxiety among those with low status and power
(Wilkinson and Pickett 2009:43–4).

Submissiveness
Subjective powerlessness is a submission, or subjugation, whether voluntary or
coerced, such that one cannot resist the dominator’s monopoly of power. When
faced with an irreducible discrepancy of social power, powerless individuals will
feel compelled to submit to a paternalistic reality, to assume a social identity in
which they are less than adults. To submit to power is an expression of passiv-
ity and of acquiescence. Being subjected to power is not necessarily painful or
abusive, but even if power is benevolent, resistance can bring about an angry
reaction, punishment, and retribution. Thus, submission to power is motivated by
both acquiescence and fear.
Dominance and submission are not emotions but kinds of behavior. Nonethe-
less, they have affective content which can be specified. The affective compo-
nent of dominance was defined by Plutchik ([1962] 1991:118), with unnecessary
148 Emotions basic to alienation
tentativeness, as “anger + acceptance = dominance (?).” As defined here,
dominance = anger & acceptance. This means that the action of domination is
moving forward to a goal with the acceptance, acquiescence, or submission of
others. Plutchik also defines “acceptance + fear = submission, modesty.” Modesty,
however, can be considered a behavioral manifestation of shame, and can therefore
be excluded from the present definition. To accept the anger of another (function-
ally, their moving ahead toward their goals or objectives) is to defer, to step aside,
to comply with, to submit quietly or to acquiesce, to fearfully retreat, rather than
insist on one’s own goals and interests; it means to submit to the dominance of
the other. To be dominated is to be subjected to discipline, to be rendered fear-
ful and therefore docile, and to respond by turning one’s energies, capabilities,
and aptitudes into the production of what is useful to those who dominate (Fou-
cault [1975] 1995:138). The following can be defined: submissiveness = fear &
acceptance–acquiescence.
Anger and fear have been shown to be linked to dominance and submission by
a set of complex neural mechanisms (involving plasma and cerebrospinal levels
of certain peptide hormones) that maintain a state of anger or fear and consequent
aggressive, power-motivated or vigilant, powerlessness-motivated behaviors,
through neural entrainment, after the initial anger- or fear-inducing stimuli is no
longer perceptible (Sewards and Sewards 2003). According to Plutchik, anger
and fear are opposite emotions that result in opposite behavioral tendencies lead-
ing to forward-moving dominance and the reactive defensiveness of submission,
respectively. This opposition can be seen, for example, in the aggressive, domi-
nating behavior of psychopaths who have a dispositional fearlessness, resulting in
“fearless domination” (Lòpez et al. 2013).
While anger, at least as manifested in the behavior of advancing toward a goal-
state, would appear to be interior to the affective level of dominance, it should be
mentioned that individuals with lower social status have been reported to express
more anger than those more dominant, and there appear to be significant cultural
differences in the expression of anger in situations in which dominance–submission
is at issue. In Western cultures, especially among Americans, those who are domi-
nated are apt to express anger in order to vent their frustration at being dominated,
experiencing adversity, or having their goals blocked (Berkowitz 1989). Japanese
adults were more apt to use anger to display their authority (Park et al. 2013). In
the former case, anger appears in the aftermath of, but is not interior to, the sub-
missiveness itself; in the latter case, anger is interior to the affective expression
of dominance.

Shame
The hypothesized primary components of shame, fear and sadness, were discussed
in Chapter 6. Both of these primary emotions have been linked to powerlessness;
they have been being described as expressions of “vulnerability, helplessness, and
powerlessness” (A. Fischer 1993:312). The definition of shame proposed here suggests
that shame is also an emotional aspect of powerlessness. This would appear to be
 The emotions of powerlessness 149
consistent with sociological theorizing, according to which emotions are seen as
resulting from dynamics of status and power in social interactions (Kemper 1978),
and shame is seen as the key social emotion (Scheff 2000, 2003). Powerlessness is
a sociorelational situation that can derive from conditions of life or from traumatic
events that place one in a compromised, painful, or abusive situation. There is a vast
literature linking shame to situations and conditions of powerlessness. Members of
social groups and communities who have been subjected to undeserved and unjust
treatment they are powerless to prevent experience intense shame, even humilia-
tion (Leidner, Sheikh and Ginges 2012). Parents and their children who have been
victimized by domestic violence find their shame (and guilt) a barrier to disclosure
and the seeking of relief (Stanley, Miller and Foster 2012). In the experience of
being traumatized by war and armed conflict, survivors are apt to experience post-
traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), together with shame, and the associated reactions
of avoidance (the behavioral concomitant of fear) and loss of self-integrity (sadness
being the prototypical reaction to loss). Shame has been shown to be a nearly inevi-
table concomitant of PTSD (Andrew Stone 1992). Female soldiers subjected to
sexual assault are apt to experience and internalize shame, self-blame, helplessness,
hopelessness, and powerlessness (Weiland, Haley and Bounder 2011). Women who
have been subjected to harmful and abusive treatment, and who have experienced
being trapped, isolated, and powerless, have been helped with the resulting shame
by means of shame-resilience theory, which is intended to increase awareness and
understanding about shame (Hernandez and Mendoza 2011).
Given that shame can be defined as a mixture of fear and sadness, the two nega-
tively valenced primary emotions of powerlessness, there should be a conceptual
relationship between shame and powerlessness. Shame is a painful emotion felt by
individuals who see themselves, as represented by the disapproving eyes of others,
as possibly in violation of the authority of social customs, codes of behavior, and
norms. It is a sociomoral emotion serving as a mechanism of social control, for
shame-avoidance in individuals comes about through socialization to and inter-
nalization of the normative order of one’s culture. The individual’s capacity for
shame is an acknowledgement of the power of the normative order, and of one’s
being powerless to challenge this order with impunity, as the suffering that shame
causes is, in and of itself, a debt paid to one’s community. Shame is the affect
which induces us to conform to the authority, the power, of one’s cultural environ-
ment (Heller 1985; Scheff 2000, 2003).

Objective powerlessness
Distinctions between objective and subjective levels of powerlessness and other
varieties of alienation and estrangement have long been at issue among alienation
theorists. A complete description of objective powerlessness is far beyond the scope
of this work. What can be accomplished is to briefly describe selected aspects of such
powerlessness, and in the data analysis to follow use them as indicators. Here, just
five sources of powerlessness will be considered, namely social inequality, social
inferiority, social invisibility, economic distress, and an external locus of control.
150 Emotions basic to alienation
Social inequality
In social relationships of an egalitarian nature, the participants typically share
equally in risks and rewards. If social relations are not equal, then they are by
definition hierarchical, which means those in lower positions are apt to have deni-
grated social identities and to be treated as less than equal, or as inferior. Hierar-
chy, the ‘vertical’ dimension of social life, involves power, domination, authority,
leadership status, and prestige (Schwartz 1981). Those with social power gain
first access to shelter, comfort, and the enjoyments of life. For an existing social
hierarchy, there are two basic adaptive reactions, which are to strive for a high or
dominant position or to submit to a lower status (Boehm 1999).
Here we are focused not just on the perceptions of those treated unequally, but
rather on the objective social situation in which members of groups – while seeing
each other as equals within the group are, as a social fact, seen and treated as less
than equal by others; this can result in discrimination, denigration, ridicule, abuse,
and various kinds of exclusion from full participation in the life of a society and
its dominant culture. Under these conditions, members of less-than-equal groups
and categories are apt to be powerless to prevent unequal treatment. Members in
such groups and categories will lack input into decision-making. They are apt to
be invidiously stereotyped and treated as if their social identities are unacceptable,
and their desires and ambitions are seen as unrealistic and therefore irrelevant.
They are apt to receive treatment that is unfair, hostile, and aggressive.

Social inferiority
With the exception of some remaining hunting-and-gathering societies with a
strong egalitarian orientation, most societies have a vertical taxonomy of power,
or system of social stratification, according to which some are ‘above’, or have
‘high’ status, while others are ‘below’, having ‘low’ status. This reality has led to
the retention of ancient dual-symbolic classification systems, according to which
those who are above are superior and those who are below are inferior. This clas-
sification system is a structure, meaning it has multiple channels which convey
much the same information. Accordingly, distinctions are made between above/
below, up/down, skilled/unskilled, strong/weak, leading/following, etc. These
assembled verbal forms “constitute an intelligible universe of power” (Schwartz
1981:5), according to which superiority and inferiority symbolize social power.
The redundancy of these polar opposites conveys the social importance of social
hierarchy, which has deep evolutionary roots, being manifested in dominance and
submission display by lizards, monkeys, and humans (MacLean 1990); hierarchy
is a fundamental problem of life, widely distributed in the animal kingdom (Plut-
chik 1983), and social dominance/subdominance is central to human history and
human social organization (Mason 1971; Boehm 1999; Sidanius and Pratto 1999).
Thus, the verbal taxonomy of power reflects the objective realities of power and
powerlessness and is the “controlling archetype” of power relationships in the
social order (Schwartz 1981:81).
 The emotions of powerlessness 151
Social invisibility
Yi-Fu Tuan (1984:2) observes that for objects standing in the way of those who
wield power, “the shakers and doers of the world, they are removed––unless they
are perceived to have use and are so used.” To be ‘removed’ means to be put out of
sight and mind, to be rendered marginal to one’s community. The powerless eas-
ily become victims, subjected to exploitation or cruelty. For the dominators, “the
victim has little or no interest and is barely part of his visible landscape,” which
is focused not on the suffering of the victim, but rather on “pleasure, adornment,
and prestige.” Thus, for the powerful, those they dominate are nearly invisible.
Far from sharing in the suffering of those they dominate, the exercise of power
and exploitation can be a source of pleasure, which contributes to its pervasive-
ness. Bourdieu ([1998] 2001:1–2) describes a form of “symbolic violence,” a
subtle form of domination that relies on bypassing the conscious will by setting
up an embodied, insidious ‘habitus’, wherein dominance is developed as “a gentle
violence, imperceptible and invisible even to its victims,” which by suggestive
metaphors such as ‘alchemy’ and ‘magic’ somehow produces “a durable way
of standing, speaking, walking, and thereby of feeling and thinking” (Bourdieu
[1997] 2000:138). Lukes ([1974] 2005:141) notes the vagueness of this conceptu-
alization, but agrees with Bourdieu that the effectiveness of power as domination
is enhanced by being disguised or rendered invisible, as what is “conventional
and position- or class-based appears to the actors as natural and objective,” and is
imposed not consciously but rather as the “imposition of a scale of values.”
For the powerless, invisibility can become an aspect of ‘quietude’, a passive
condition of being subjected to “invisible power” that is internalized to result
in a sense of powerlessness (Gaventa 1982), and a “culture of silence” (Freire
1970). The understanding that those with status and power do not wish to see or
hear members of subordinate groups and classes stimulates adaptive responses in
which, out for concern and even fear for their well-being, members of such groups
strive be ‘invisible’, ‘hidden’, and ‘unobserved’. Members of low-status groups
and categories are apt to be subjected to a pattern of microaggressive slights on the
part of individuals with higher status, which on the surface seem trivial or banal,
but which, if repeatedly experienced, can have a cumulative, highly deleterious
effect, which can induce stress, anger, and feelings of invisibility and marginaliza-
tion (Pierce 1988). Social invisibility is a perception of not being valued, noticed,
or acknowledged, and that one’s talents, abilities, and personality are not recog-
nized (Franklin 1999).

Economic distress
The negative experience of economic social relations means to be poor, to lack
money and resources, and to lack opportunities. The most powerless individu-
als in a society will typically lack useful economic skills, training, and educa-
tion, all of which places them at a disadvantage in competition for jobs and other
opportunities of life. Even when work is obtained, it is insecurely held and can
152 Emotions basic to alienation
involve low-paying, demeaning, unhealthful labor. Those who live outside of or
are marginal to the economy become dependent upon governmental and private
aid, which together form a social safety net; individuals, families, and groups
in such situations experience lack of access to organizational resources, such as
health care, child care, job training and suitable employment, food insecurity,
inadequate housing and potential homelessness, and risk of being victimized by
crime (Eve and Eve 1984), and economic exploitation.

External locus of control

An external locus of control was originally conceptualized as the degree to which
individuals believe that the significant events they experience occur independently of
their actions (Rotter 1966). This concept includes being subjected to the authority of
others, but this is not necessarily a negative experience, as we saw with the example
of the individual who believes that the two external sources of control – powerful oth-
ers and chance – can work together to control outcomes on his or her behalf. A subtle
external force controlling one’s destiny, if malicious, can create a sense of despair;
but if perceived of as benevolent, it can generate a blissful feeling of being protected
and cared for by a guardian angel of some other spiritual being or force. Generally,
control-orientation theorists see the social situation of providing a range of reinforc-
ing alternatives available to the individual, with the individual typically choosing
the alternative that has previously been rewarding. Thus, expectancies, perceived
reinforcement value, and situational parameters interact to determine behavior. There
is, in general, congruence between environments and individuals: (i) individuals who
believe they can control their environments adapt best in environments that respond to
their control efforts; (ii) individuals who believe they have little control over their situ-
ations adapt best to environments unresponsive to individual control attempts. Those
who are objectively controlled by others are subject to abuse, neglect, and exploita-
tion, as those powerless in their limited control efforts can provide services, money,
and labor power, all of which can be both useful and profitable. Thus, the objective
reality of external control is one aspect of structural powerlessness.

A content-analytic study of life-historical interviews with

Australian Aborigines and Euro-Australians
Now that we have established sociorelational aspects of sociorelational power-
lessness and of the specific emotions comprising the subjective experience of
powerlessness, these variables can be studied empirically. The above conceptual
model requires extensive empirical evaluation. As a preliminary step, we pres-
ent structural equations models of objective and subjective powerlessness (OP,
SP) and their manifest indicators, using as a dataset a corpus of 732 life his-
torical interviews obtained by the author over three years throughout Australia,
in environments ranging from large urban areas to remote outback settings. After
eliminating interviews of less than 2,000 words, 563 remained, consisting of 298
Australian Aborigines (46 percent female) and 265 Euro-Australians (45 percent
female). The mean interview length was 10,534 words (standard deviation 11,659,
 The emotions of powerlessness 153
maximum 100,663). The median age of the informants was 64, with the middle
99 percent ranging from 30 to 98. While Australia is a multicultural society, the non-
Aboriginal interviews were restricted to informants who trace their ancestry to the
British Isles or Northern Europe. Wordlists were constructed using Roget’s folk-
concepts, together with several other thesauruses and dictionaries. All grammatical
variations of each root word were considered, but only those consistent with the
concept in question were included. For each category, a summated rating of word
use was measured by the number of times words in the concept wordlist were
spoken, as a proportion of the total words in the transcript (weighted by 10,000).

Wordlist indicators of objective and subjective powerlessness

Wordlists were constructed to measure each of the five criteria described above.
(i) Inequality was measured by words selected to express disgust and disap-
proval, including ‘degraded’, ‘despised’, ‘odious’, and ‘scruffy’, as shown in
Table 10.1. (ii) Inferiority is closely related to a lack of socioeconomic status and

Table 10.1 Word categories and partial wordlists for secondary emotions of powerlessness
and for social and economic sources of objective powerlessness

Word categories (Number of words) Representative words

Social and economic sources of
objective powerlessness
Inequality (47) unequal begged degraded despised disgrace
odious scruffy
Inferiority (36) inferior unskillful ineffective lowly weak
mediocre incompetent
Invisibility (25) concealed disguise hidden invisible unseen
unobserved
Economic Stress (96) costly expensive swindled demoted losses
overpaid evicted
External Control (44) comply conformed dutiful obey service
oppressed enslaved
Secondary emotions of subjective
powerlessness
Fatalism (43) fateful lucky doom omen wish destiny uncanny
astrology
Pessimism (23) hopeless undone gloom bleak pessimistic futile
dismal
Resignation (22) accommodation resigned withdrew indifference
detached
Anxiety (58) worry disturbed nervous bothered anxious tense
distressed
Submissiveness (47) slavishly deference kneeling pliable grovel
kowtow submissive
Shame (39) shamed ashamed shyly modest humbled
comedown humiliating
154 Emotions basic to alienation
other resources, and is indicated by terms such as ‘inferior’, ‘unskillful’, ‘weak’,
‘mediocre’, and ‘incompetent’. (iii) Invisibility was measured by terms including
‘disguised’, ‘hidden’, and ‘concealed’. (iv) Economic Distress, or poverty, can be
described by terms salient to those who lack money. Such individuals speak of
commodities as ‘costly’ and ‘expensive’, and remark that they have ‘overpaid’ for
services such as check cashing, are prone to being ‘swindled’, ‘demoted’, or facing
‘eviction’. (v) An External Locus of Control was measured by a wordlist that con-
cerned not feelings and beliefs but rather expressions of real social circumstances.
Words selected for this purpose include ‘comply’, ‘conformed’, ‘dutiful’, ‘obey’,
‘oppressed’, and ‘enslaved’.
Subjective powerlessness was modeled as a quaternary sentiment, comprised of
six secondary emotions combining the distinct pairs of formed primary emotions.
Representative words used as indicators of the four primary and six secondary
emotions are also presented in Table 10.1.

Culture and sex differences

For the five indicators of OP, there were no significant interactions between Cul-
ture and Sex, and no direct effect for Culture. Two Sex differences were found:
Males, in both cultures, were significantly higher than females for Inferiority and
Economic Distress.
Prior to assessing OP and SP in measurement models, and showing their rela-
tionship through a causal model, we examined the effects of Culture (Aboriginal,
Euro-Australian) and Sex on the four primary emotions of interest. The Aborigines
were substantially lower on Acceptance–Acquiescence and Anticipation–Expectation,
but significantly higher for Sadness and Fear. In both cultures, females were higher
on Sadness than were males. For the other negatively valenced emotion, Fear, the
Aborigines were again higher than the Euro-Australians, with females, in both
cultures, higher than males.
For the secondary emotions, there were no significant effects for Pessimism and
Submissiveness. Aborigines, for both sexes, were significantly lower than Euro-
Australians for Fatalism, Resignation, and Anxiety, but were significantly higher
for Shame. There was just one significant Sex difference, as females were higher
than males for Shame. Thus, among the six secondary emotions, it was only Shame
that was significantly affected by both Culture and Sex.

Two measurement models

The next step in data analysis was to assess the dimensionality of the manifest
indicators of OP and SP. Measurement models (using SAS Calis) were used to test
the hypotheses that each set of indicators derives from a single underlying factor.
The results of these analyses are presented in Figure 10.1. For the OP analysis, the
program converged after eight iterations. All indicators, as expected, had positively
valenced coefficients. The model fit the data, as the Root Mean Square Residual
(RMR) was .033 and the Adjusted Goodness of Fit Index (AGFI) was .978 (with
 The emotions of powerlessness 155

Fatalism .31
Inequality
.61
Pessimism .28
Inferiority .32
Objective Resignation .30 Subjective
.34
Invisibility Powerlessness
Powerlessness .39
.18 Anxiety
Economic Distress .21
.25
Submissiveness .27
External Control
Shame

Figure 10.1 Measurement models for objective powerlessness and subjective

powerlessness

RMR > .05 and AGFI < .95 indicating misfit). Thus, there is justification for con-
sidering OP a latent variable.
A parallel analysis was carried out to assess the sentiment of SP, which is
hypothesized to find expression in six secondary emotions. In this analysis, the
six coefficients ranged from Anxiety .39, Fatalism .31, Resignation .30, Pessimism
.28, Shame .27, to Submissiveness .21. The program converged after eight itera-
tions. The data also fit this model, as the RMR was .030 and the AGFI was .984.

A confirmatory causal model

In assessing the dimensionality of the hypothesized latent variables OP and SP,
reflective measurement models were used, with causal arrows directed from the
latent variable to their manifest indicators. For a causal model, this is certainly
appropriate for SP, because it is reasonable that a feeling, or sentiment, that one
is in a powerless situation is apt to trigger feelings of fatalism, a pessimistic out-
look on life, a sense of resignation, being gripped with a diffuse anxiety, feeling
compelled to act and feel in a submissive way, and, perhaps unconsciously, feeling
shame. But it makes more theoretical sense to see OP as an emergent, formative
variable (see Edwards and Bagozzi 2000) that can come about through the deep
and persisting experiences of being treated as less than equal, of being reminded
of one’s inferiority, of being socially invisible to others, of living in poverty, or of
being controlled by external forces, institutions, or others. Thus, the causal arrows
will be reversed, so that the latent variable, OP, is seen as emerging through the
experience of one or more of its sociorelational sources. As for the relationship
between OP and SP, it would appear from macrosociological theories of power and
powerlessness, and alienation theory as well, that OP has an effect on, or causes,
SP. Separate analyses, by Culture and by Sex, produced very similar results, so
only results for the entire corpus of interviews are presented. The effects of the
errors in the six emotion terms and the two disturbances in the latent variables
156 Emotions basic to alienation

.32 Fatalism
Inequality .43 Ds
Do
.19 Pessimism
Inferiority .28
Subjective .36 Resignation
Objective
.25 .73
Invisibility .31
Powerlessness Powerlessness
.44 Anxiety
Economic Distress .23
.24
.32 Submissiveness
External Control

Shame

Figure 10.2 Causal model: subjective powerlessness as a function of objective powerlessness

were set at unity (with covariances not modeled). The results of this analysis are
shown in Figure 10.2.
As predicted, all five sources of OP had positive coefficients. The two latent
variables were strongly related, with the path coefficient from OP to SP .73. The
program converged after nine iterations. The model fit the data (RMR .035, AGFI
.973). It can also be observed that the probability that all 12 path coefficients were,
as predicted, positive, is 2–12 = .000244. The ‘significance’ of these results is based
on the assumption that the life-historical interviews were randomly drawn from
some population. While an effort was made to select representative interviews,
random sampling was not used, so that the dataset is referred to as a ‘corpus’ rather
than a sample.
It is worth noting that for the two secondary emotions for which there is a
significant Culture difference, there is a relationship between the primary emo-
tions and the secondary emotions consistent with the definitions proposed above.
Aborigines are significantly lower than Euro-Australians on Fatalism, and they are
also significantly lower on the two primary emotions hypothesized to be compo-
nents of fatalism, Acceptance–Acquiescence and Anticipation–Expectation. And
Aborigines are significantly higher than Euro-Australians for Shame, and also
higher for the two primary emotions hypothesized to be the primary components
of shame, Sadness and Fear.
Shame is arguably the emotion central to the subjective experience of pow-
erlessness. In Figure 10.2 it is shown as impacted by four OP variables, all but
Inferiority. The one insignificant result, on the surface, suggests that shame does
not result from a sense of one’s own inferiority, but this conclusion would be
inconsistent with the above interpretation of shame and with the shame literature.
Individuals gripped by shame are prone to repress, hide, and deny this painful emo-
tion, which includes not talking about shame. As one example, Wurmser (1981:22)
describes an obsequious psychiatric patient who feared being exposed, laughed
at, and being treated with contempt by others, and who was clearly ashamed of
his passivity, weakness, and disturbing sexual fantasies. This patient manifested
 The emotions of powerlessness 157
“shame resistance,” which “was expressed . . . in halting speech and frequent
silences.”

Discussion
The objective of this chapter has been to develop and test a theoretical model of
one of Seeman’s original varieties of alienation, the sentiment of powerlessness.
Seeman identified three emotions that are interior to the subjective experience
of powerlessness, which are fatalism, pessimism, and (in passing) anxiety. All
three of these affective states are defined as secondary emotions, which share the
primary emotions acquiescence, expectation, sadness, and fear. Given that there
are six ways to pair four objects, it follows that there must be three additional
secondary emotions involved in powerlessness that Seeman did not identify, and
indeed these pairs of primary emotions have been interpreted as three additional
secondary emotions, resignation (acceptance-acquiescence & sadness), submis-
siveness (acquiescence & fear), and shame (fear & sadness).
Powerlessness, as a variety of alienation, refers both to an objective sociore-
lational situation or condition and to the subjective experience of the individual.
On the social-psychological level, powerlessness is a sentiment, that it, it has both
cognitive and affective aspects. Seeman has emphasized that alienation should be
studied not as a general concept but in its specific manifestations, as powerless-
ness, normlessness, meaninglessness, etc. Once this commitment is made, the gen-
eral concepts of alienation (and estrangement) become somewhat supererogatory,
as can be seen by the literature on powerlessness considered here, little of which
is grounded in alienation theory. Alienation theorists have posed an important
problem but have expended precious little energy addressing its solution, either
theoretically or empirically. It is an open question as to whether the complex set
of emotions at the basis of the sentiment of powerlessness can be intentionally
induced, but they most certainly can be socially constructed through the socializa-
tion process and moral norms.
Members of societal subpopulations who develop a collective apprehension that
their way of life and level of social entitlements are threatened, are apt to fear that
the sociopolitical advancement of previously marginalized groups and classes will
undermine their power to defend their values and their social space. Gripped by
this fear, these groups experience a sense of relative deprivation, and suffer inse-
curity as a result, are apt to experience strong feelings of resentment (Wettergren
and Jansson 2013). This resentment makes their suffering meaningful, but this
complex emotional state – that of resentment – is experienced as a concomitant of
a loss of relative power, but this loss is not yet total, so that they need not anticipate
having to acquiesce to their perceived worsening situation. What is experienced
under such circumstances is not an abject powerlessness, but rather a perceived
loss of power. Once this process begins, it can lead to a helpless form of resentment
and a descent into true powerlessness, or to a forceful kind of resentment, where
the loss of power is contested and rights to power reasserted. In the case of suffer-
ing a descent into powerlessness, into Lukes’s third level of powerlessness – that of
158 Emotions basic to alienation
‘subjection-inducing acquiescence’ – then the emotions described here will come
to the fore. But in the case of forceful resentment, there will rather be a mobiliza-
tion of personal and political power; the result can be an active contestation of a
deteriorating situation and an effort to overcome a perceived decline of fortune. In
this case, powerlessness comes to be experienced at the second and first stages, and
the involved emotions, resentment, certainly anger, and so forth, become dominant
as the affective level of an overall adaptive response.
11 A summing up, competing
sociological models of
alienation, and issues in
alienation theory and research

Introduction
The last five chapters have theorized the affective bases of Seeman’s (1959) pro-
posed inventory of five varieties of alienation: normlessness, meaninglessness,
self-estrangement, cultural estrangement, and powerlessness. Table 11.1 summa-
rizes the results of this analysis. We discovered that normlessness, which Seeman
and many others consider a single variety of alienation, comprises two distinct
subtypes, each associated with very different emotions. Normlessness1 involves
intentional norm violation and the emotion ruthlessness; it occurs even in stable
societies in which the normative order is well understood. Normlessness2 involves
unintentional norm violation and the emotion discouragement; it is most apt to
occur when the normative order has become destabilized.
Cultural estrangement is similarly of two kinds: first, a feeling of disdain toward
aspects of one’s culture, and second, a sense of dread, dismay, or apprehension
about not ‘living up to’ culturally dominant expectations governing accomplish-
ment, performance, and behavior in the social world. We thus expanded Seeman’s
initial inventory of five varieties of alienation to seven. These seven varieties of
alienation are based on differing, though in some cases overlapping, primary emo-
tions; all involve at least one of the negatively valenced primary emotions sadness,
surprise, or disgust.1

Valence, focus, and clustering of the emotions of alienation

We tentatively generalize that when positive and negative emotions combine, a
negative affective state of mind and associated behavioral reactions can occur.
Generally, an emotion will be experienced positively only if all of its components
are positive. From a social-psychological viewpoint, positive valence (illustrated,
for example, by anger and aggressiveness) does not mean that an emotion is plea-
surable, but rather that it is instrumentally approach-oriented and goal seeking.
The affective bases of three varieties of alienation – normlessness1, meaning-
lessness, and cultural estrangement1 – are similar, for they share two primary
emotions, disgust and anger. Given that the mixture of disgust and anger yields
contempt, these three varieties of alienation also share the secondary emotion,
160 Emotions basic to alienation
Table 11.1 Types and varieties of alienation and their bases of primary, secondary, and
tertiary emotions

Types and varieties Primary Secondary Tertiary

of alienation emotions emotions emotions
Externally focused
Normlessness1– joy–happiness contempt
anomie1 anger derisiveness ruthlessness
disgust pride
Meaninglessness anger shock
disgust outrage resentment
surprise contempt
Cultural anger cynicism
estrangement1 anticipation– contempt
expectation disdain
disgust aggressiveness
Internally or self-focused
Normlessness2– surprise shame
anomie2 fear disappointment discouragement
sadness alarm
Self-estrangement disgust disappointment
sadness shock despair
surprise loneliness
Cultural surprise anxiety
estrangement2 anticipation–
expectation alarm dread
fear confusion
Internally and externally focused
Powerlessness acceptance– fatalism
acquiescence resignation
anticipation– submissiveness
expectation pessimism
fear anxiety
sadness shame

contempt. Figure 11.1A shows this overlapping of anger and disgust, shared by
three varieties of alienation.
The other four varieties of alienation – normlessness2, self-estrangement, cul-
tural estrangement2, and powerlessness – also have similar affective bases. Their
overlapping primary emotions are shown in Figure 11.1B. These four varieties of
alienation also share secondary emotions: normlessness2 shares disappointment
with self-estrangement, alarm with cultural estrangment2, and anxiety with pow-
erlessness. Cultural estrangement2 shares alarm with powerlessness. These four
varieties of alienation are thus based on similar primary and secondary emotions.
Given this overlapping of primary and secondary emotions, it appears that the
varieties of alienation might consist of two types. Specifically, normlessness1,
 A summing up 161

A normlessness1
cultural
estrangement1
joy–happiness disgust anticipation

anger

surprise
meaninglessness

B normlessness2

cultural
fear estrangement2
surprise anticipation

sadness
disgust acceptance
powerlessness
self-estrangement

Figure 11.1 Venn diagrams of the primary emotions associated with (A) predominantly
externally focused and (B) predominantly internally or self-focused varieties
of alienation (and powerlessness)

meaninglessness, and cultural estrangement1 form one group (based on the simi-
larities among ruthlessness, resentment, and disdain), and normlessness2, self-
estrangement, cultural estrangement2, and powerlessness, another (based on
similarities among discouragement, despair, dread, and emotions of powerlessness).
To examine the possible clustering (of the varieties of alienation), we return
to Plutchik’s primary-emotions ‘wheel’, wherein the positively and negatively
valenced emotions are grouped together, as shown in Figure 11.2. In Plutchik’s
schemata of the primary emotions, distance between the discrete emotions indi-
cates dissimilarity (see TenHouten 1995). The placement of the four positively
valenced emotions on the left side, and the negatively valenced emotions to the
right, shows that valence is an important criterion of similarity. Figure 11.2 shows
that emotions basic to the seven varieties of alienation form two distinct clusters,
one encircled in the positive space, and one in the negative. The total concep-
tual space is divided (by a dotted line) into two semi-circles, demarcating the
four positively and the four negatively valenced primary emotions. The ‘positive
space’ is to the left of this line; the ‘negative space’, to the right. This division
162 Emotions basic to alienation

Acceptance

10
+
Joy Surprise

8.4
+ –
Positive
Negative
space
space

Anger Fear
Dread
5 + R thl
Ruthlessness –
Discouragement
e
Resentment
Emotions of
powerlessness

Despair
Disdain

+ –
1.6
5 Anticipation Sadness

–
0
Disgust
0 1.6 5 8.4 10

Figure 11.2 Plutchik’s 1962 circumplex or ‘wheel’ locating eight primary emotions
in a two-dimensional space; the primary emotions of all seven varieties
of alienation are plotted in the two-dimensional space and placed at their
centroids

of ‘emotional space’, as we saw in Chapter 7, is consistent with neuroscientific

evidence supporting an emotions–valence theory. This theory posits that positive
(that is, approach-oriented) basic emotions (e.g., anticipation, happiness, anger)
are lateralized to the left side of the brain; and negative, withdrawal-oriented emo-
tions (e.g., sadness, disgust, surprise) are right-lateralized (Davidson et al.1990;
G. Lee et al. 2004; Balconi and Mazza 2010). This is also consistent with Plut-
chik’s assignment of valences to the primary emotions, which are labeled ‘+’ or
‘−’ in Figure 11.2.
To explore the possible clustering of the six tertiary emotions and the emotions of
subjective powerlessness, we will position them in the conceptual space of Figure
11.2.We equidistantly space all eight primary emotions around the perimeter of the
‘wheel’, and impose a measurement grid (of two 10-point scales) over the circle.
The six tertiary emotions (and the quaternary-level sentiment of powerlessness)
 A summing up 163
are plotted at their centroids. For example, dread is comprised of anticipation (1.6,
1.6), fear (10, 5), and surprise (8.4, 8.4), so its centroid is at (6.7, 5).
The results show two distinct clusters. What might contribute to this clustering?
A leading candidate variable is external-internal focus: The two plotted clusters
of complex emotions might differ in bring primarily focused externally (oriented
to action in the social field) or internally (toward the self).

The externally focused cluster of tertiary emotions

The three positive-space, tertiary emotions – ruthlessness, resentment, and dis-
dainfulness (which are the affective bases of normlessness1, meaninglessness, and
cultural estrangment1), share the primary emotions disgust and anger, and thus
by definition, the secondary emotion contempt. Contempt is usually directed out-
wardly,2 toward individuals who are despised or considered scorn-worthy.
Ruthlessness, the affective basis of normlessness1, is a willingness to act in one’s
raw self-interest without regard for others’ welfare or rights; it involves contempt;
as we saw in Chapter 6; it also likely involves derisiveness and pride. Derisiveness
is a propensity to mock, ridicule, or otherwise convey to targeted others their puta-
tive worthlessness. Pride, an angry joy, manifests in public displays intended to
announce one’s status or accomplishments; it can also convey an outward expres-
sion of social dominance or superiority.
The key tertiary emotion of meaninglessness, resentment, is an emotion of
hostility; if forceful, it is typically directed outwardly toward those perceived to
have unjustly caused suffering or loss. Resentment is directed toward those whose
harming behavior is deemed morally unacceptable or potentially sociomorally
shocking; it can trigger angry indignation, or outrage. The three secondary emo-
tions of resentment – contempt, shock, and outrage, are thus all directed outwardly
toward others.3
In cultural estrangement1, the individual regards significant features of mass
or consumer society with feelings of disdainfulness. This involves the secondary
emotion contempt, and can be further described as aggressiveness; it involves
what Monroe (1998) calls a “power to hurt,” and can manifest as a cynical attitude
toward the goals and values of one’s own society and culture.

The internally focused cluster of tertiary emotions, together with the

emotions of powerlessness
The tertiary emotions discouragement, despair, and dread, which are clustered in
Figure 11.2’s negative space, are internally focused. By internally focused, we
mean that they can be seen as emotional reactions whose primary target is the
disheartened, vulnerable, endangered, humiliated, or exploited self; these emotions
can potentially function to denigrate, or even destroy, the self.
The passive subtype of normlessness, normlessness2–anomie2, is hypoth-
esized to be based on the tertiary emotion, discouragement. Discouragement
164 Emotions basic to alienation
is a cognitive–affective state wherein the individual perceives its agenda and
goals to be thwarted, to fail, or to be incompatible with dominant normative
standards in an unstable culture or an ambiguous cultural or subcultural situa-
tion. Discouragement can involve a sense of shame, or disapproval of oneself
by self and/or others. Discouraged individuals can also feel disappointment
over unmet expectations or unachievable goals. They can experience alarm
over their apparently ineffective endeavors, or over their threatened place in
community or society.
Self-estrangement is, by definition, self-focused. At its extreme, it involves
despair, a deeply painful, distressing state wherein the individual is profoundly
disappointed about and estranged from aspects of the self; the despairing indi-
vidual reaches the shocking conclusion that they have no place in the social world;
this can lead to a deep sense of loneliness, and to a collapse of the self.
In cultural estrangement2, individuals experience a sense of dread upon per-
ceiving they are unable to meet expected levels of social performance. Dread can
include existential anxiety and a sense of alarm, together with possible confusion
concerning one’s social identity. The secondary and tertiary emotions of normless-
ness2, self-estrangement, and cultural estrangement2 thus apparently comprise a
second, internally focused type of alienation.
Powerlessness clusters with the three self-focused kinds of alienation,
although it is not entirely focused on the self. Two of powerlessness’s sec-
ondary emotions, anxiety and shame, are self-focused emotions. Powerless-
ness’s other four secondary emotions (fatalism, resignation, submissiveness,
and pessimism), however, have an outward focus. Fatalism is the belief that
one’s welfare is determined by an external agency, meaning that one considers
an external locus of power as determinative of one’s destiny. Resignation is
reluctant acknowledgement that one’s goals and desires cannot be realized, or
that one’s life circumstances cannot be altered. When one resigns oneself to a
negative outcome, focus is on the other and on acquiescence to an unwanted,
saddening situation. Submissiveness is acceptance of another agent’s greater
power, wherein the individual defers to a superordinate individual. In Hegel’s
analysis of the master and the bondsman, we found that, in the initial stage of
maximum powerlessness, the bondsman’s very self is focused on the needs and
desires of his lord; his very being is a being-for-another. Pessimism is a belief
that future events will not benefit the self or cannot be positively altered or
controlled. Insofar as powerlessness is a subjective, affect-laden state of mind,
its hypothesized constituent secondary emotions are thus a hybrid of both self-
focused and outwardly focused emotions.
A cross-classification of secondary emotions on the external–internal focus, and
negative-mixed-positive valence dimensions, is shown in Table 11.2. In this table,
none of the negatively valenced, secondary emotions is externally focused, and
none of the positively valenced secondary emotions is internally focused. There is
thus a strong, positive relationship between the variables positivity of valence and
externality of focus (Kendall’s τb = .78).4
 A summing up 165
Table 11.2 Cross-classification of the secondary emotions occurring in one or more variet-
ies of alienation: valence of primary emotional components by external (social-
situational) or internal (self) focus

Valences of primary emotional components

Focus Both negative Mixed valence Both positive

External contempt pride
(social outrage aggressiveness
situation) derisiveness fatalism
cynicism
pessimism
resignation
submissiveness
Internal loneliness anxiety
(self) shame confusion
alarm
disappointment
shock
2 0 7 3
Kendall’s τb = .78 1 5 2 0
1 2 3

Alternative sociological models of alienation

Sociologist Jonathan Turner (2007, 2010) has endeavored to link emotions to
alienation by associating specific, putatively primary, emotions to a generalized
form of alienation. In this account, Turner identifies alienation, shame, and guilt
as three tertiary-level emotions. Further, each of these three tertiary emotions is
a combination of the same three primary emotions, namely “disappointment–
sadness,” “aversion–fear,” and “assertion–anger.” Turner proposes that these
identical, putatively primary emotions’ differing (i) relative intensity levels and
(ii) externality or internality of focus explain how they produce three different
tertiary-level emotions.
In Turner’s (2010:181) definitional scheme for the tertiary-level emotion guilt,
disappointment–sadness is the dominant, that is, most intense, primary emotional
component; aversion–fear occurs at a lower intensity level, and assertion–anger
occurs at the lowest intensity level. Turner posits that two other tertiary emo-
tions, shame and alienation, are also comprised of the same three primaries:
disappointment–sadness, aversion–fear, and assertion–anger. For intensity, the
ordering again posits disappointment–sadness as most intense in both shame and
alienation: but for both shame and alienation, assertion–anger is now second in
intensity, and aversion–fear is least intense. Turner thus defines two complex emo-
tions (shame and alienation) as mixtures of the exact same three primary emotions,
with identically ordered intensity levels (Turner 2010:181). Turner proposes that
166 Emotions basic to alienation
alienation and shame are nonetheless distinguishable, because, for alienation, “the
anger component . . . is stronger and is focused on the situation more than on
self” (Turner 2010:182, emphasis added). Thus, in Turner’s model, alienation and
shame are comprised of the same three primary emotions, with identically ordered
intensity levels, but nonetheless differing in two ways: (i) despite identical levels
of intensity, the relative distance between disappointment–sadness and assertion–
anger is lower for alienation than for shame; and (ii) in alienation, assertion–anger
is relatively more externally focused than it is in shame. Turner (2007:517, empha-
sis added) further claims: “Since the same three negative emotions are involved
in alienation, shame, and guilt, shame or guilt may transmute into alienation and
manifest itself as role distance in encounters.” Such a transmutation, Turner argues,
can result from a change in focus, where, for example, the primary emotions of guilt
are directed toward the self, whereas in alienation the same emotions are externally
focused, directed outward toward other individuals or situations.
Numerous problems undermine this approach. First, this conceptualization fails
the Citrin et al. (1975:4) requirement, because the “role distancing” that Turner
claims as the manifestation of alienation (resulting from shame- or guilt-inducing
social interactions) does not appear to “run deep” enough to qualify as alienation.
Second, the claim that different complex emotions derive from different intensity
levels of identical primary emotions, or from a shift of focus of these same primary
emotions, lacks theoretical or empirical support. Third, we have hypothesized that
the specific varieties of alienation have specific emotions as their affective bases; but
no variety of alienation, or alienation in general, can, contrary to Turner’s claims,
properly be defined as an emotion. For example, we hypothesize that self-estrange-
ment has the tertiary emotion, despair, as its emotional basis; but self-estrangement
cannot be reduced to, or equated with, despair. Fourth, while many researchers dis-
agree with Plutchik’s claim that acceptance and anticipation–expectation are primary
emotions, it is difficult to defend (much less ignore) a model of primary emotions
that does not include disgust and surprise; these are two of Ekman’s ‘big six’ emo-
tions, all of which are recognized cross-culturally on the level of facial expression.
Finally, Silvan Tomkins (1963) was justified in calling “fear–terror,” “anger–
rage,” and “surprise–startle” single emotions, because the pairs of terms clearly
refer to different intensity levels of the same emotions. Turner’s combinations
(“disappointment–sadness” and “assertion–anger”), however, are not justifiably
considered single emotions. We define disappointment as a secondary emotion
(surprise & sadness); assertion is not a primary emotion but is the behavioral
concomitant of the secondary emotion aggressiveness (anticipation & anger),
which includes argumentativeness (Azjen and Fishbein 1980; Boster, Levine and
Kazoleas 1993; TenHouten 2013b:144–6). Thus, two of the emotions Turner sees
as primary emotional components of his tertiary-level emotions cannot therefore
be regarded as primary emotions. They are at best combinations of secondary and
primary emotions. In Turner’s combination “aversion–fear,” aversion appears to
be the behavioral concomitant of fear, not fear itself.5
Other sociologists have theorized the dimensionality of alienation. Scheff
(2008) defines “solidarity/alienation” as two poles of a single dimension. He bases
 A summing up 167
this distinction on two parties’ levels of shared agreement or disagreement about a
verbal proposition, where disagreement is interpreted as a measure of alienation.
Scheff sees an emotional component in agreement/disagreement, yet agreement/
disagreement is primarily a cognitive distinction, and Scheff does not specify its
emotional content. Whatever feelings might accompany agreement/disagreement,
they appear not to meet the Citrin et al. (1975:4) requirement that, to be considered
‘alienating’, a separation or divide must be an enduring orientation accompanied
by genuine, intense, persistent, and deep feelings.
Kanungo (1979) sees “alienation” as the obverse of “involvement.” This follows
Durkheim’s (1893, 1897) dichotomy of anomie and involvement. Dubin (1959)
has also posited an opposition between the job-alienated and the job-involved; the
latter regard work as life’s central activity and an end in itself. We argue, however,
that alienation in general is already a broad concept; it is uninformative to embed
a general concept of alienation into a still broader, dualistic conceptualization.

The emotions of alienation, 31 and possibly counting

In Table 11.1, we observe that all eight primary emotions identified by Plutchik
are represented among the seven varieties of alienation. The positively valenced
(PV) primary emotions occur eight times (anticipation–expectation anger, three
each; joy–happiness and acceptance–acquiescence, once); the negatively valenced
(NV) emotions occur 14 times (disgust and surprise, four; sadness and fear, three).
The primary emotions most frequently associated with varieties of alienation are
disgust and surprise; these two emotions, however, have received scant mention
in the alienation literature.
The most prevalent secondary emotion is contempt (three occurrences), fol-
lowed by alarm, disappointment, shock, anxiety, and shame (two occurrences
each). Eleven other secondary emotions occur just once, and 11 not at all. Of the
seven varieties of alienation, only self-estrangement and normlessness2 are associ-
ated with a tertiary emotion comprising three NV emotions; the others are of mixed
valence: Meaninglessness and cultural estrangement2 contain two NV emotions;
normlessness1 and cultural estrangment1 contain just one.
We have linked a total of 31 distinct emotions – 8 primary, 17 secondary, and
6 tertiary – to the seven varieties of alienation. We make no claim that this inven-
tory is exhaustive. It is possible that kinds of alienation not considered here can be
linked to specific inventories of emotions. Additionally, one or more of the models
of emotions basic to the seven varieties of alienation might be underspecified, and
need elaboration and the introduction of additional emotions. And, most obvious
of all, the subjective experience of powerlessness is apt to involve four tertiary
emotions not specified here.

Issues in contemporary alienation theory and research

A key issue in social-scientific research is whether alienation should be conceptu-
alized as a single, general concept or as a set of specific varieties of alienation. To
168 Emotions basic to alienation
address this question, we divided this book into two parts. In Part I, we showed
that scholars who theorize alienation as a general concept presuppose that modern
societies contain unsettling forces and conditions that engender alienation. Sources
of alienation include capitalism’s exploitative nature and the detailed division of
labor, modern society’s loss of community, and the anonymity of urban life. These
scholars typically acknowledge different subtle aspects of alienation, but posit
or assume that each variety of alienation reflects, or functions as, an indicator
of a “general syndrome of alienation” (Travis 1986:62). John Clark (1959:852),
for example, conceptualizes alienation as the individual’s inability to overcome
the discrepancy between what is and what ought to be, and urges researchers “to
devote further efforts to the development of a measure of the more general dimen-
sion of alienation in society.” As a general concept, alienation comprises many
hidden romantic (or cynical) assumptions concerning human nature and definitions
of a good society. However, while individuals in widely different circumstances
(e.g., the dropout, the activist who distrusts those in power, the apathetic slum
dweller) can share a feeling of remoteness from aspects of the social-political-
economic world, the origin and character of their separateness differ so consider-
ably that their particular experiences cannot plausibly be seen as dimensions of a
single syndrome. Those who insist on treating alienation as a diffuse concept can
only reduce it to a non-theoretical, classificatory term, analogous to “separation”
(Schacht 1970:175).
Using the terminology of contemporary causal modeling, we label general
alienation A and its associated specific varieties of alienation, a1, . . ., ak. Scholars
who prefer the general concept would model A as a reflective latent variable that
‘causes’ the levels of its indicators, as shown in Figure 11.3A. Schacht, Seeman,
and this author would rather argue, in the terminology of contemporary causal
modeling, that A is a formative, emergent latent variable (Edwards and Bagozzi

A. Specific varieties of alienation shown as B. The latent variable, Alienation, as a formative,

indicators of the latent variable, Alienation emergent variable resulting from experiences of
one or more specific varieties of alienation

Normlessness1 Normlessness1

DA
Normlessness2 Normlessness2
2
A
Meaninglessness Meaninglessness
Alienation Alienation
Alienation
Self-Estrangement Self-Estrangement

Cultural Estrangement1 Cultural Estrangement1

Cultural Estrangement2 Cultural Estrangment2

Powerlessness Powerlessness

Figure 11.3 Alternative models of relationships between seven specific varieties of alien-
ation and alienation as a general concept
 A summing up 169
2000) that develops in the thoughts and feelings of individuals affected in certain
specific ways, as shown in Figure 11.3B. We argue that the formative, emergent
model is the more promising view. In the contemporary world, countless individu-
als experience one or more varieties of alienation. Investigating the sources, affec-
tive bases, and consequences of these specific kinds of alienation will yield more
insightful information than contemplating alienation in general.
Well-known kinds of alienation have not been addressed here, including alien-
ation from nature, economic alienation, political alienation, work alienation,
teacher alienation, student alienation, and parental alienation. These kinds of
alienation refer to feelings of distance toward, and potential actual disengagement
from, major institutions of society, the polity, the economy, the educational system,
the family. For terminological convenience, these are called kinds of alienation
rather than Seeman’s (1959) preferred term, varieties of alienation. They have been
excluded from the present investigation not because they are unimportant, which
is certainly not the case, but rather because it seems unlikely that they could be
linked to any specific set of emotions.
Varieties of alienation, while possessing cognitive content, are also affective
phenomena. This is largely under-analyzed in both theory and research. Popular
parlance typically holds that ‘alienation’ is associated with feelings of isolation,
hopelessness, powerlessness, loss, anxiety, frustration, despair, and/or loneliness”
(Rae 2011:1). Many academic studies of alienation, for example Feuerlicht’s
(1978) Alienation, are similarly saturated with emotional terms, such as sadness,
grief, malaise, despair, loneliness, pessimism, and beyond. Yet these terms were
not bracketed out as specific emotions, and the concepts, emotion, feeling, senti-
ment, and affect, were neither defined nor indexed. Emotions and passions thus
abound in scholarly descriptions of alienation yet are largely unanalyzed. The con-
temporary surge in emotions theory and research provides an opportunity to renew
the concept of alienation. Social scientists can potentially gain a deeper under-
standing of the ways in which the dynamically changing social world contrib-
utes to individuals’ cynicism and distrust of value and belief systems, institutions,
complex organizations, and governments. Alienation research and theory could
have real-world applications by exploring how certain varieties of alienation might
function as intervening variables between oppressive or traumatic experiences and
pathological outcomes such as suicide and post-traumatic stress disorder.
The concept of alienation is very much alive and is potentially useful. It is hoped
that the models of the affective bases of seven varieties of alienation presented
here will assist researchers to develop measures of the cognitive and affective
components of these sentiments of alienation. This is a requisite step toward link-
ing the structural determinants of varieties of alienation to their sociobehavioral
consequences.

Notes
1 Self-estrangement has been described as arguably the most profound level of alienation,
and despair, its hypothesized affective basis, is comprised of exactly these three primary
emotions.
170 Emotions basic to alienation
2 As stated in Chapter 8, contempt, and especially in a context of resentment, can also take
the form of self-contempt, which is often accompanied by shame.
3 While outrage is clearly directed outward, toward angering others in the social field,
shock’s external focus is less obvious. The present classification system sees shock as
a combination of disgust and surprise. Goddard (2014:74–5; see also note 59) defines
disgust as “extremely unpleasant” and “unacceptable and shocking.” In this context,
surprise refers to a threatening territorial violation, of one’s body, social integrity, or
well-being.
4 If the four secondary emotions belonging only to powerlessness are removed, Kendall’s
τb is reduced to .54.
5 Turners’ (2010) fourth primary emotion is “satisfaction–happiness.” While happiness
is widely regarded as a primary emotion among researchers who accept the notion of
primary emotions as natural kinds, “satisfaction” has been considered a primary emotion
only by a few emotions researchers. Fromme and O’Brien (1982:344) include “satisfac-
tion” among their eight primary emotions, and define it as synonymous with “content-
ment,” or a “relaxed” state of mind. They concur with Plutchik’s view of satisfaction
as synonymous not with happiness but with acceptance, and note that “contentment, or
satisfaction” is “expressed behaviorally by acceptance.” In the present classification, the
combination of joy–happiness and acceptance is a secondary emotion, love. Kemper
(1987) also sees satisfaction as one of his four primary emotions, but his inventory
includes depression, which is related to sadness, sometimes to anger, but is clearly not
an emotion.
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Name index

Abraham, Rebecca 126–7 Baudrillard, Jean 124

Abrams, M. H. 9–10, 22–3, 26, 43 Baumeister, Roy, F. 105, 130
Abramson, Lyn, Y. 145 Bearman, Peter, S. 87
Abrutyn, Seth 87–8 Beck, Aaron, T. 92
Abu-Jamal, Mumia 104 Beck, Brittney 94
Adams, Kathleen 95 Becker, Ernest 130
Adorno, Theodor, W. 108 Beiser, Frederick, C. 22, 28
Aeurbach, Erich 128 Bekker, Noel 117
Aiken, Michael 3, 105 Bell, Daniel 52
Alix, Ernest, K. 195 Bensman, Joseph 112
Alloy, Lauren, B. 145 Benton, Arthur, L. 89
Allport, Gordon William 132 Ben-Ze’ev, Aaron 146
Altemeyer, Bob 81 Bergstein, Avner 101
Althusser, Louis 41 Berkowitz, Leonard 148
Alverez, A. 103 Berlet, Chip 108
Améry, Jean 110 Berlin, Irving 24
Anderson, Cameron 145 Berlin, Isaiah 21, 28, 45, 48
Apter, Alan 103 Bernard, Mark, M. 123
Arditi, Jorge 46 Berridge, Kent, C. 131
Arendt, Hannah 10–11 Bethencourt, Francisco 109
Arthur, C. J. 44 Bewes, Timothy 126
Ashley-Cooper, Anthony 20 Bion, Wilfred, R. 135
Augustine, Saint, Bishop of Hippo Bjarnason, Thoroddur 87
9–10, 12 Blalock. Garrick 144
Averill, James, R. 61 Blauner, Robert 54, 101, 105
Azjen, Icek 166 Bloom, Harold 41
Boehm, Christopher 150
Bacharach, Samuel, B. 3, 105 Bogen, Glenda, M. 104
Bagozzi, Richard, P. 155 Bogen, Joseph, E. 100–1, 104
Baier, Annette, C. 107, 115 Boiger, Michael 61
Bakan, David 137 Borys, Shelly 174
Balasubramani, Pragathi, P. 64 Boster, Franklin, J. 126, 166
Balconi, Michela 100, 162 Bostik, Katherine, E. 96
Balibar, Étienne 41 Bounder, Michelle 149
Balzac, Honoré de 12, 37 Bourdieu, Pierre 139, 151
Barbalet, J. M. 112 Bower, Gordon, H. 92
Barrett, William 128 Bowlby, John 134
Bar-Tal, Daniel 118 Bowles, M. J. 109
Bartels, Daniel, M. 80 Bowman, Mary Jean 145
 Name index 203
Boyer, Jean-Paul 25 Cowchock, F. S. 98
Boyer, Richard 96 Cowdry, Rex, W. 103
Brage, Diane 95 Cozzarelli, Catherine 130
Braun, Jerome 124 Craib, Ian 95
Brewer, John 43 Crane, Jeffrey 96
Briñol, Pablo 139 Crocker, Jennifer 140
Brown, Hélène, M. 76 Crocker, Lester, G. 71
Brunkhorst, Hauke 24 Currie, Robert 22, 24–6, 48
Bryan, Craig, J. 81 Cutler, Ian 26, 43
Bucci, Sandra 81
Buck, Ross 60 Darwin, Charles 28, 59–60, 62, 66, 69
Burke, Edmund 132 Davidson, R. J. 100, 162
Burke, Michael, J. 135 Dean, Dwight, G. 1
Burson, Katharine, A. 140 Dean, James W 127
Butler, Ann, B. 64 Deater-Deckard, Kirby 121
Byrne, Paul, A. 61 Decety, Jean 101, 104
DeHart-Davis, Leisha 106
Cacioppo, John, T. 95 Delgado, Ana, R. 69
Callahan, Jamie 123 Demos, John 109
Campbell, Sally Howard 15–17 Demos, Virginia 61
Capetillo-Ponce, Jorge 46 Descartes, René 19, 22
Carlisle, Sandra 123 Devinsky, Orrin 101
Carlyle, Thomas 20, 37–8 de Waal, Frans 116
Carr, Deborah, S. 98 Diamond, Stephen, A. 105, 115
Carver, Charles, S. 114, 126, 142, 145 DiCristina, Bruce, D. 87
Castelfranchi, Cristiano 83, 142 Diggins, John 54
Cataldi, Sue, L. 93 DiGiuseppe, Raymond 114
Cayne, Julia 97 Dohrenwend, Bruce, P. 114
Chambers, Christoper, P. 116 Donnachie, Ian 27
Chaminade, Thierry 101 Douglas, Mary 129
Charleton, Walter 27 Drosos, Dionysios 36
Charney, Israel, W. 80 Du, Shichuan 66
Cheng, Joey, T. 89 Dubin, Robert 178
Chiao, Joan, Y. 69–70 Dunayevskaya, Raya 51
Chowers, Eyal 50 Dunn, Richard, A. 98
Christenson, Janell 53 Durant, Ariel 28
Citrin, Jack 93 Durant, Will 28
Clark, Jason 89 Durkheim, Émile 47, 71, 73–81, 83,
Clark, John, P. 1, 168 85–90, 108, 167
Classen, Timothy, J. 98
Clegg, Stewart, R. 139 Edmondson, Donald 132
Clore, Gerald, L. 61, 146 Edwards, Jeffrey 132
Cobb, Jonathan 112 Eibl-Eibesfeldt, Irenäus 59–60
Coleridge, Samuel Taylor 43 Eichner, Hans 23
Collas, Sara, F. 77 Eisenberger, Howard, M. 89
Collins, Allan 61, 146 Eisenberger, Naomi, I. 85
Collins, Randall 54 Ekman, Paul 59–60, 66, 69, 79, 82, 85,
Coltheart, Max 104 125, 166
Conti, Florenzo 104 Elliot, Andrew, J. 84
Cooper, David, E. 30 Ellsworth, J’Anne 131
Corning, Alexandra 111, 117 Elshtain, Jean Bethke 129
Cory, Gerald, A., Jr. 64 Elsworth, Phoebe, C. 140
Coser, Lewis 26 Engels, Friedrich 4, 30, 25, 37–42, 44, 53
Costello. Kimberly 81 Ergang, Robert Rinehold 21
204 Name index
Erikson, Erik, H. 95, 98, 135 Garvey, Brian 83
Erwin, Edward 105 Gauthier, David, P. 15
Etzioni, Amitai 2 Gaventa, John 139–43, 151
Evans, John, W. 140 Gebauer, Jochen, E. 123
Eve, Raymond, A. 152 Gee, Joanna 97
Eve, Susan, B. 152 Geis, Karlyn, J. 147
Everall, Robin, D. 96 George, Carol 96
Gerbing, David, W. 126
Fabrize, Robert, O. 145 Gerhards, Jürgen 55
Faflak, Joel 22 Gerson, Walter, M. 54
Farber, Leslie, H. 82, 96–7, 99–100, 102 Geyer, R. Felix 2
Fassin, Didier 110 Gigerenzer, Gerd 121
Faÿ, Eric 124, 127 Gilbert, Jeremy 123
Feather, N. T. 117 Gilbert, Paul 141–2
Feinberg, Todd, E. 104 Ginges, Jeremy 149
Ferguson, Adam 35–7, 42–3 Glazer, Nathan 1, 53
Feuer, Lewis, S. 24, 39, 51, 53–4 Glenn, Gary, D. 14
Feuerbach, Ludwig 4. 30, 34–5, 39, 42 Glockner, Hermann 44
Feuerlicht, Ignace 4. 30, 34–5, 39, 42, Goddard, Cliff 121, 170
43, 169 Goldberg, Elkhonen 145
Fichte, Johann Gottlieb 34, 41 Goldsmith, Marlene Mosca 95
Finlon, Kristy, J. 59, 61 Goodenough, Ward, H. 93, 119
Fischer, Agneta, H. 118, 148 Gordon. Steven, L. 61
Fischer, Claude, S. 3 Gottschalk, Simon 125
Fischer, Ernst 37 Gouldner, Alvin, W. 41
Fischer, Kurt, W. 84 Grant, Peter, R. 114
Fischer, Peter 130 Gray, Jeffrey, A. 132
Fishbein, Martin 166 Greenberg, Jeff 130
Fiske, Alan Page 60, 65–6, 69, 116 Gregory I, Pope 8
Fiske, Susan, T. 147 Grimsley, Ronald 131
Flew, Antony 34, 51 Grotius, Hugo 4, 13–15
Folger, Robert 111, 113 Grotstein, James, S. 101
Foster, Helen Richardson 149 Guimond, Serge 81
Foucault, Michel 139, 148 Guinote, Ana 140
Franklin, Anderson, J. 151 Gurr, Ted Robert 141
Frazer, Michael, L. 20, 71 Guterman, Norbert 108
Freire, Paulo 141, 151
Freud, Sigmund 132 Habermas, Jürgen 41
Friesen, Wallace, V. 59–60, 125 Hacker, Douglas, J. 96
Frijda, Nico 61 Haidt, Jonathan 125, 132
Frisby, David 47–8 Hailwood, Simon 24
Fromkin, Howard, L. 12 Haley, Jenna, L. 149
Fromm, Erich 8, 18 Hall, Amanda, L. 83
Fromme, Donald, K. 170 Hampton, Jean, E. 14
Frymier, Jack 126 Hanlon, Phil, W. 123
Fuchs, Stephan 47 Harmon-Jones, Eddie 114, 126
Harré, Rom 61
Gadamer, Hans-George 36 Haskins, Charles Homer 18
Galinsky, Adam, D. 145 Haugaard, Mark 139
Gane, Mike 78, 86 He, Jie 72
Ganti, Tejaswini 124 Headey, Bruce 145
Garaudy, Roger 41 Hearn, Simon 95
Gardner, David, L. 103 Heaven, Patrick, C. L. 81
 Name index 205
Heavener, John, W. 141 Kaplan, Charles, D. 53, 100
Hegel, George Wilhelm Friedrich xv, 4, 8, Kapur, Shitij 131
28–35, 40–4, 54, 71, 107, 142, 164 Karafa, Joseph, A. 130
Heidegger, Martin 97 Kashima, Emi, S. 130
Heller, Agnes 83, 149 Katyal, Neil Kumar 108
Henderson, Gregor 123 Kavanagh, David, J. 92
Hendin, Herbert 102 Kay, Aaron, C. 113
Henrich, Joseph 89 Kazoleas, Dean 166
Herman, Judith, L. 134 Keane, Mark, T. 121
Hernandez, Virginia Rondero 149 Keats, John 21, 25
Hernández-Tubert, Reyna 98 Keenan, Julian Paul 101, 104
Hill, Lisa 36–7, 43 Kelly, George, A. 132
Hirschowitz, Ros 147 Keltner, Dacher 84, 132, 139
Hobbes, Thomas 4, 12–15, 18, 27, 75 Kemper, Theodore, D. 149, 170
Hodos, William 64 Keniston, Kenneth 54
Hodson, Gordon 81 Keren, Gideon 121
Holmes, Gregory, L. 61 Kesebir, Pelin 132
Honour, Hugh 21 Kessler, Thomas 105
Hook, Sidney 41, 44 Kiehl, Kent, A. 80
Hoppe, Klaus, D. 100–1 Kierkegaard, Søren 130–1, 137
Horowitz, Irving Louis 51, 54 Kinsman, Robert, S. 18
Horton, John 54 Klinger, David, A. 88
Howard, Donald, R. 10–11, 30–1 Koch, Andrew, M. 24, 48–50
Howe, Irving 128 Koch, Ehud 98, 131, 134–6
Howes, Oliver 131 Koenigs, Michael 80
Hubbard, Julie, A. 128 Kohn, Jerome 10
Hume, David 27, 66, 106–7, 111, 115–16, Kołakowski, Leszec 51
118, 120 Kon, Igor, S. 54
Hunter, John, E. 126 Kornhauser, Arthur 54
Hutcheson, Francis 20, 27 Krauss, Herbert, H. 132
Hyppolyte, Jean 30 Kravitt, Edward, F. 21
Kringelbach, Morton, L. 131
Ickes, William 92 Kristeva, Julia 95
Innocent III, Pope (Lotharii Cardinalis) 11 Kunzendorf, Robert, G. 140
Ino, Joy Michie 96
Izard, Carroll, E. 59–61, 72, 83 La Capra, Dominick 76
Ladner, Gerhart, B. 187
James, Susan 20, 28, 71 LaFrenière, Peter, J. 60–1
Jansson, André 157 Lalande, André 76
Jessor, Richard 77 Lamb, Robert 36
Johnson-Laird, P. N. 125 Lambek, Michael 144
Johnstone, Tom 61 Langdon, Robyn 104
Jonas, Eva 130 Langer, Ellen, J. 98
Joseph, R. 64, 101, 103 Langman, Lauren 124
Jost, John 113 Lansky, Melvin 87
Judd, Dorothy 98 Lantz, Herman, R. 145
Just, David, R. 144 Lavin, Carmen 27
Layden, Anne 92
Kahler, Erich 7 Lazarus, Richard 146
Kalberg, Stephen 55 Leary, Mark, R. 130
Kant, Immanuel 19–20, 23–4, 28, 48, LeDoux, Joseph 64
71, 108 Lee, Alfred McClung 52, 54
Kanungo, Rabindra, N. 167 Lee, Gregory, P. 162
206 Name index
Lefcourt, Herbert, M. 147 Meredith, William 95
Leidner, Bernhard 149 Mesquita, Batja 61
Lester, David 88 Messner, Steven, F. 87
Levin, Harvey, S. 81 Meštrović, Stjepan 76
Levin, Michael 28, 44 Mészáros, István 8, 12–13
Lévinas, Emmanuel 107, 115, 120 Metalsky, Gerald, I. 145
Levine, Timothy 166 Meyer, Frank, S. 53
Lewis, Helen Block 84 Miceli, Maria 83, 142
Lewis, Michael 84 Michaelis, Loralea 95
Lewis, Oscar 145 Miller, A. V. 44
Lieberman, Matthew, D. 85 Miller, Neil, E. 112, 121
Lindquist, Kristen, A. 61, 71–2 Miller, Pam 149
Liotti, Mario 100 Miller, W. I. 96
Locke, John 4, 13–15, 18, 27 Mills, C. Wright 53
Lodge, David 124 Mineka, Susan 145
Loewenthal, Del 97 Minkkinen, Panu 107
Lohne, Vibeke 98 Mirowsky, John 140, 147
Lòpez, Raúl 148 Moffitt, Terrie, E. 84
Lövheim, Hugo 59 Mokros, Hartmut, B. 88
Lowenthal, Leo 188 Monroe, William Frank 123–4, 128–9, 163
Löwy, Michael 25, 37–8, 40, 135 Moody, James 87
Lukes, Steven 139–41, 151, 157 Moons, Wesley, G. 72, 114
Luten, Alice, G. 145 Morgan, George Allen 108
Morling, Beth 147
McCarthy, E. Doyle 61, 108 Morrison, Andrew, P. 84
McCrary, J. S. 145 Mueller, Anna, S. 87–8
McGilchrist, Iain 38, 100–1 Murray, Alexander 120
McGregor, Holly, A. 84 Murray, Jennifer, L. 88
McKay, Ryan 104
McKee, Ian, R. 117 Neal, Arthur, G. 77, 124
Mackie, Diane, M. 72, 114 Nettler, Gwynn 122
MacLean, Paul, D. 59–60, 64–6, 69, Neuhouser, Frederich 15
141, 150 Neuringer, Charles 131
McNaughton, Neil 132 Newman, Joseph, P. 80
Maguire, Phil 121 Nietzsche, Friedrich Wilhelm 49, 107–10,
Maguire, Rebecca 121 117, 120–1
Mah, Harold, E. 43 Nisbit, Robert, A. 1
Maio, Gregory, R. 123 Novalis (George Philipp Friedrich von
Malebranche, Nicolas 27 Hardenberg) 24, 42
Maltsberger, John, T. 93–4, 96 Nussbaum, Martha, C. 141
Manderscheid, Ronald, W. 2
Manzoni, Tullio 104 Oatley, Keith 125
Marks, Stephen, R. 73, 90 Obligacion, Freddie, R. 140
Marshall, Thomas, H. 111–13, 116 O’Brien, Clayton, S. 170
Martinez, Aleix, M. 66 O’Connor, Mary Catharine 11
Marx, Karl xv, 4, 8, 15, 26, 28, 30, 35, Odea, Thomas, F. 88
37–45, 49, 61, 53–4, 105, 112–13 Ollman, Bertell 39, 44
Mascolo, Michael, F. 150 Orkin, Mark 147
Mason, Philip 150 Oropesa, R. S. 124
Mauss, Marcel 71, 90 Ortony, Andrew 61
May, Rollo 102
Mazza, Guido 100, 162 Pahl, Katrin 31, 44
Mead, George Herbert 28, 43 Pandey, Sanjay, K. 106
Mendoza, Carmen, T. 149 Panksepp, Jaak 59–60, 64, 72, 125–6, 142
 Name index 207
Pannese, Alessia 94 Rotenstreich, Nathan 9
Pappenheim, Fritz 1, 52 Rotstein, Abraham 8, 40
Park, Jiyoung 148 Rotter, Julian, B. 152
Parker, James, D. A. 100 Rousseau, Jean-Jacques 1–2, 4, 13–18, 21,
Parsons, Howard, L. 44 25–6, 28, 30, 37, 39, 42, 108, 111
Pascal, Blaise 22 Ruby, Perrine 110
Paster, Gail Kern 19 Rudd, M. David 81
Patrick, William 95 Runciman, Steven 18
Paulson, Barbara, L. 96 Runciman, W. G. 113
Peacock, Edward, J. 105 Ruotolo, Andrew, K. 81, 88–9
Pearlin, Leonard, I. 54 Russon, John 43
Peckham, Morse 7, 22, 25, 37, 44
Penick, Edwin, A. 119 Sabini, John 83
Pereira, Beatriz 140 Sandlin, Jennifer, A. 123
Perkins, Adam, M. 80 Santayana, George 142
Perlman, Daniel 95 Sauter, Disa, A. 60
Petrey, Sandy 37 Savio, Mario 51
Petrill, Stephen, A. 121 Sayre, Robert 40
Pickett, Kate 142, 147 Schaar, John, H. 40
Pierce, Chester, M. 151 Schacht, Richard 2–3, 13, 18, 91, 123, 168
Pincus, Jonathan, H. 115 Scheff, Thomas, J. 62, 83, 149, 166–7
Pizarro, David, A. 80 Scheier, Michael, F. 142, 145
Plotinus 9 Scheler, Max 93, 109, 120
Plunkett, H. Dudley 145 Schelling, F. W. J. 26, 34, 41, 43
Plutchik, Robert 4, 59–60, 62–7, 80–5, Scherer, Klaus, R. 61
88–9, 92, 96–8, 113–14, 116, 125–7, Schiller, Friedrich 25–7, 35, 37, 39, 42–3
132–3, 135, 138, 141, 143–4, 146–8, Schjelderup-Ebbe, Thorleif 141
150, 161–2, 166–7, 170 Schlegel, Friedrich 24, 43
Poblete, Renato 88 Schleiermacher, Friedrich, D. 41, 43
Poggi, Gianfranco 48 Schneider, Mark, A. 50
Popitz, Heinrich 25 Schopenhauer, Arthur 47
Porter, Roy 17 Schorr, Angela 50
Pratto, Felicia 79, 139, 150 Schutte, Ofelia 108
Pribesh, Shana 140 Schwartz, Barry 150
Pribic, Rado 27–8 Schweitzer, David 2
Price, John Scott 141 Schwendinger, Herman 123
Putnam, F. W. 103 Schwendinger, Julia, R. 123
Pyszczynski, Tom 130, 132 Scott, James, C. 139, 141
Seeman, Kenneth 103
Rae, Gavin 30, 169 Seeman, Melvin xvi, 1–4, 52, 54, 59, 76,
Ralph, John, A. 145 91–3, 103, 105, 122–3, 125, 138, 140,
Regin, Deric 25 143, 157, 159, 168–9
Reginster, Bernard 109–10, 117, 120 Seligman, Ben, B. 54
Reid, Jeffrey 41 Seligman, Martin, E. P. 142
Reiner, Anton 64 Sen, Amartya 50
Reker, Gary, T. 105 Senault, Jean-François 27
Rick, Scott, I. 140 Sennett, Richard 111–12, 139
Rinehart, James, W. 2 Sewards, Mark, A. 148
Ringel, Erwin 85 Sewards, Terence, V. 148
Rippere, Vicky 25–6, 52–3 Sha, Richard, C. 22, 24
Robinson, Robert, J. 139 Shahar, Golan 98
Romei, Vicenzo 100 Shay, Jonathan 53
Roseman, Ira, J. 118 Sheikh, Hammad 149
Ross, Catharine, E. 140, 147 Shewmon, D. Alan 61
208 Name index
Shneidman, Edwin, S. 96 Toch, Hans 96
Shweder, Richard, A. 59 Tomarken, Andrew, J. 72, 114, 126
Sidanius, Jim 79, 139, 150 Tomkins, Silvan, S. 69, 72, 83, 146, 166
Simmel, Georg xv, 4, 27, 45–8, 54–5 Tönnies, Ferdinand 25, 45
Simmons, A. John 14 Tracy, Jessica, L. 81, 89, 102
Simon, Daniel, H. 144 Travis, Robert 1, 168
Sloman, Leon 141 Tribiano, Timothy Nicholas 98
Sloterdijk, Peter 43, 126 Trope, Yaacov 139
Smith, Adam 35–6, 42–3, 106, 111, 117, Trow, Martin 108
120–1 Tuan, Yi-Fu 151
Smith, Craig, A. 140 Tucker, Don, M. 100
Smith, Heather, J. 105, 111–14 Tucker, Robert, C. 44
Smith, Pamela, K. 139 Turner, Bryan, S. 107, 111, 117
Snyder, C. R. 123 Turner, Jonathan, H. 62, 165–6, 170
Solomon, Judith 96
Solomon, Sheldon 130 Van Lancker Sidtis, Diana 64
Sorenson, E. Richard 59–60, 125 Van Steenburg, Erik 145
Spears, Nancy 145 Veblen, Thorstein 144
Spiegel, Donald, E. 131 Vellenga, Barbara, A. 53
Spielberger, Charles Donald 115 Vidich, Arthur 112
Spinoza, Benedictine de 27, 71 Voegelin, Eric 42
Sroufe, L. Alan. 61 Von Henkel, Arthur 27
Stack, Steven 87
Stanley, Nicky 149 Walker, Eugene 51
Starobinski, Jean 16 Walzel, Oskar, P. 21, 28, 48
Stauth, George 122 Wearing, Alexander, J. 145
Steinbock, Anthony, J. 97 Weber, Max x, 45, 48–51, 55, 139
Stevens, Laura, E. 147 Weiland, Diane, M. 149
Stone, Alison 22, 24 Weinberg, I. 100
Stone, Andrew, M. 149 Weisfeld, Glenn, E. 89
Stouthamer-Loeber, Magda 84 Wessell, Leonard, P., Jr. 38, 40
Stravynski, Ariel 96 Wesson, Robert, G. 51, 53
Strawson, P. F. 107 West, E. G. 36
Sullivan, J. W. N. 27 White, Richard 107
Suttie, Ian, D. 1, 52 Widrow, Leslie 103
Wilkinson, Richard 142, 147
Tafrate, and Raymond Chip 114 Wilson, Marc Stewart 79
Tangney, June Price 83 Wilson, Thomas 27
Tao, Yong 68 Winnicott, D. W. 98, 135
Tarnas, Richard 23 Winstanley, Gerrard 35
Tausch, Nicole 118 Wogan, Michael 100
Teigen, Karl Halvor 121 Wong, Paul, T. P. 105
Temkin, Owsei 19 Woodburn, Elizabeth, M. 59
TenHouten, Warren, D. 18, 53, 59, 62, Woodward, John 95
65, 67–8, 81, 83, 85, 96, 98, 100–1, Wurmser, Léon 156
104, 114, 121, 125, 131, 136, 143,
161, 166 Yack, Bernard 16
Thamm, Robert 62 Yalom, Irvin, D. 96
Thomas, Keith 49 Yesavage, Jerome 103
Thompson, Lee, A. 121 Yoshino, Atsuo 100
Thoreau, Henry David 41–2
Thorisdottir, Hulda 113 Zald, David, H. 72, 114, 126
Thorlindsson, Thorolfur 87 Zweig, Paul 54
Subject index

abhorrence 35, 62–3, 67, 128 anticipation 62–4, 66, 70, 72, 82–85, 94–5,
Aborigines, Australian 152–4, 156 98, 100, 106, 116, 122, 124, 131–8, 140,
acceptance acquiescence 15, 32–3, 66, 142–3, 145, 147, 154
113, 121–3, 126, 141–8, 150, 154, anxiety 52–3, 68, 70, 80, 89, 122, 124,
156–7, 160–1 130–3, 135–8, 140, 142–3, 147, 153–7,
affect 3–4, 19, 36, 38, 47, 49–50, 60–1, 160, 164–5, 167, 169
64, 70, 73–83, 85, 87–90, 94, 96, 100–2, anxiety buffer disruption theory
108–9, 111–13, 120, 131, 135, 166, 169 130–2, 138
affect-spectrum theory 62–9 apocalyptic prophesy 7–9, 31–2, 36,
Age of Reason 19–20 42–4, 108
aggressiveness 67, 70, 76, 85, 88, 109, artistic production 7, 12, 14, 18, 20–1,
112, 121, 124, 126–9, 133–4, 137–8, 24–9, 43, 47–8, 94, 123–5, 128–9, 132
148, 150–1, 160, 163, 165–6 asceticism 24, 35, 39, 49, 51, 111
alarm 67, 79, 82, 85–7, 131–4, 136–8, 160, attack 85, 93, 121, 127–8, 133, 135, 147
164–5, 167 authority 13, 15, 65–6, 75, 132, 139,
alexithymia 99–100, 103 148–50, 152
alienation: in the 1960s 51–4; and awe 21, 24, 67, 85, 89, 131–5, 138
cognition 24, 16, 36, 49, 70, 77, 86,
93, 101–3, 112, 139–40, 157, 169; as being 9–10, 12–13, 17, 21, 24, 26, 31–4,
objective 2, 17, 46, 138–40, 143, 38–44, 46, 93, 97, 101–2, 139, 142,
149–57; and sentiments 2–3; as 145, 164
subjective 2, 17, 31, 46–7, 139–43, belief 3, 13, 25, 27, 32–3, 35, 38, 41, 50,
152–7, 164; see also cultural 52, 119, 122–3, 126–7, 129–31, 142,
estrangement; meaninglessness; 146, 154
normlessness; powerlessness; bliss 71, 93, 152
self-estrangement body, the 8, 10–13, 18–19, 21–22, 35,
altruism 73–4, 78, 110 39–40, 47, 72, 75, 93, 101, 103, 116–17,
ambition 14, 20, 28, 71, 75–6, 81, 89, 130, 170
110, 150 bondage, bondsman 8–9, 13, 15, 28, 31–3,
analysis 22, 28, 38, 50, 72, 105, 114, 144; 40, 108, 120, 141–2, 153–4, 164
see also logic; reason boundary defense 62–3, 92, 96–7, 113,
Ancient World 7–13, 18, 25–6, 31, 33, 40, 117; see also surprise
108, 150 bureaucracy 18, 20, 26–7, 47, 49–51, 53,
anger 14, 19, 60, 62–3, 65–72, 74, 76, 106, 138
78–85, 100, 106, 109–10, 112–15,
117–21, 124–9, 131–3, 136–7, 148, 151, capitalism 15, 25–7, 36–44, 50–1, 113,
158–63, 165–7, 170 141, 168
angst 130–1, 134 challenge, challenge displays 64–5, 85,
anomie 33, 52, 73–90, 108, 160, 163, 167 115, 123, 133, 141, 147, 149
210 Subject index
Christianity 8–10, 12–13, 18, 23–4, 29, detachment, social 1, 33, 54, 78, 102,
31–2, 35, 38–42, 44, 49, 53, 107, 109, 122–3, 129, 153
110, 120 disappointment 11, 67, 78, 82–3, 85–7, 89,
class consciousness 37, 40–1, 111–13, 91, 94–5, 98–9, 103, 111, 117, 121, 145,
118, 151 160, 164–7
cognition 2–4, 16, 20, 36, 48, 60–1, 69–70, discouragement 68, 73, 82–3, 85, 88, 116,
76–7, 79–80, 86, 93–4, 101–3, 111–12, 123, 142–3, 159–64
135, 139–40, 167, 169 disdain 80–1, 112, 122–9, 133, 136–8,
communication 11, 60, 64, 70, 89, 96, 123, 159–63
96, 125; as communicative displays disgust 60, 62–3, 66–71, 74, 76–83, 85,
64–6 87, 89–92, 94–101, 103, 109, 112,
communism 35–6, 39–43, 49 124–9, 133, 136–7, 151, 153–4, 159–63,
community 1, 8, 12–13, 17, 22–3, 25, 29, 166–7, 170
33, 35–6, 38, 40–1, 43, 45–6, 49, 55, disillusionment 34, 71, 74, 78, 83, 126
65–6, 88, 102–3, 106, 120, 123–4, 142, distress 25, 33, 77, 80, 91, 94, 98, 100,
145, 149, 151, 164, 168 128, 146, 149, 151, 153–6, 164, 169
comparison, social 16, 111–14, 116, 118 distrust 1, 11, 21, 68, 126, 132, 140, 168–9
conformity 81, 103, 123, 129, 137, 142 division of labor see occupational
confusion 18, 32–3, 43, 68, 70, 76–7, specialization
86–7, 115, 135–8, 164–5 dominance 31–2, 37, 64–7, 70–1, 75, 79,
consciousness 16, 18, 23, 27, 31–4, 39–43, 81, 88–90, 110, 113, 118, 123, 128, 130,
84, 100, 106, 112–13, 117; see also class 141, 147–8, 150–1, 156, 163–4
consciousness dread 68, 70, 122, 130–8, 159–64
consumerism 123–4, 163
contempt 11, 16, 67, 69, 76, 79–82, 85–9, economic development 36–7, 40, 43, 47–8,
109–10, 117–19, 122–5, 128–9, 136–8, 53, 112–13, 149
156, 159–60, 163, 165, 167–70 economic exploitation 25–6, 36–43, 45–6,
contradiction 26–7, 31–3, 43, 97, 101, 146 101, 106, 111–13, 116, 125, 135, 142,
corpus callosum 100–1, 104 151–2
counterculture 4, 51–3, 123, 128 economic stress 2, 37, 130, 138, 141,
courtship displays 65–6 144–5, 149, 151–6, 168
cultural estrangement 1, 4, 49, 51, 54, ego(-ism) 23, 34, 46, 55, 73, 78, 126,
122–30, 132–4, 136–8, 159–61, 163–4, 134, 137
166–8 emotional focus 159–63; external 4, 76,
culture xv, 2–4, 8, 23, 25, 33, 38, 41, 45–6, 79–80, 82, 88, 117, 147, 159–66, 170;
48, 60, 65, 80, 106, 118, 122–4, 126, internal 4, 88, 117, 151, 159–66
128–30, 137–8, 148–51, 154–6, 164 emotional intensity 72, 81, 93, 114,
curiosity 67, 70 117–18, 128, 131, 165–6
cynicism xv, 1, 4, 43, 67, 70, 123, 125–8, emotions 57–72; see also primary
136–8, 160, 163, 165, 168–9 emotions; secondary emotions; tertiary
emotions
death 8, 11, 13–14, 30, 35, 38, 40, 65, 98, emotions classification 4, 54, 59, 60, 62,
100, 130–2, 137–8, 142 66–72, 74, 81, 89–90, 164–5
dehumanization 25, 37, 39–40, 42, 54, 118 emotions management 28, 43, 73, 76,
depression 19, 32, 74, 84, 86, 94–5, 100, 81, 93
140–1, 147, 170 emotions–valence theory 100, 162
derisiveness 3, 41, 44, 61, 68, 76–7, emptiness 18, 97, 99, 101–2, 126
79–80, 82, 85–6, 90, 114, 118, 123, ends 45–7, 50, 76–7; see also goals
160, 163 Enlightenment, the 10, 17, 19–23, 27–8,
despair 11, 22, 33, 52–3, 67–8, 70–1, 81–2, 38, 45, 47–8, 71, 107
91, 93–104, 152, 160–4, 166, 169 envy 16, 28, 68, 70–1, 108–10, 117, 121
destruction 35, 39, 62–3, 75, 99–100, equality 8, 12–13, 17, 33, 36, 40, 65, 106,
112–13, 125–6, 129; see also anger 109–10, 121, 150
 Subject index 211
estrangement 3, 5–8, 10, 22, 27, 39–40, homicide 73–5, 86–8
52, 54, 85, 157; see also cultural hubris 81–2, 99, 102–3; see also pride
estrangement; self-estrangement human(-ity), human nature 1, 8–9, 21–44,
Euro-Australians 152, 154, 156 47, 49–50, 53–4, 80, 89, 91–3, 99, 105,
evil 8–10, 12, 18, 28, 30, 93, 107, 109, 115–16, 130–1, 138, 150, 168
115–16, 119, 135, 137 humiliation 22, 27, 77, 80, 118, 149, 153;
evolution 15, 23, 27–8, 32, 41, 59–62, 64, see also shame
66, 70–1, 116, 150
existentialism xv, 9, 21, 91, 94, 100, 122, identity, social 3, 8, 17, 30, 46, 62–3, 65–6,
130–1, 134, 138, 164 82, 92–3, 95, 98, 102, 116, 123, 135,
existential problems 4, 60, 62, 64–5, 147, 150, 164
69–70, 97, 150; see also hierarchy; imagination 17, 20–6, 38–40, 43, 98, 102,
identity; temporality; territoriality 109, 126
expectation see anticipation incorporation 62–3, 135, 141, 143; see also
exploration 18, 62–3, 70, 125, 143; acceptance
see also anticipation inequality xv, 106, 111, 113, 116, 147,
149–50, 153, 155–6; see also equality
fatalism 4, 68, 70, 73, 140, 143–4, 153–7, inferiority, social 32, 34, 88, 92, 108–12,
160, 164–5 117–18, 137, 147, 149–50, 153–6
fear 11, 14, 28, 32, 52, 60, 62–3, 56–8, invisibility 149, 151, 153–6
70–2, 79, 83–5, 88–90, 100, 114, 130–8,
141–2, 147–9, 151, 154, 160–3, 165–7 jealousy 16, 55, 68, 71, 101
finitude 130–1, 137; see also death; joy and enjoyment 10, 13, 16, 24, 25, 27,
mortality 32, 34–5, 60, 62–3, 76, 79, 81–2, 85,
flesh, the see body 88–90, 97, 106, 109–10, 125, 133, 138,
fragmentation 8–10, 12, 16, 22, 25–7, 39, 145, 150, 160–3, 167; see also happiness
35–7, 39, 42, 46, 48, 93, 96, 134–5
freedom 9–10, 13–15, 17, 21, 25, 27, 29, left hemisphere of brain 100
32, 38, 42, 49, 51, 137 life-historical interviews 153, 156
frustration 28, 39, 105–8, 115, 121, 145, locus of control 141, 143–5, 149, 152, 154,
148, 169 164; see also fatalism
future, the 39, 42, 44, 51, 84, 91–2, 95, logic 14, 20, 23, 34, 38, 50, 97, 99–101,
97–8, 100–1, 105–6, 112–13, 131–2, 103, 126; see also analysis; reason
144–5, 164 loneliness 3, 22, 28, 52, 67, 91, 94–7, 99,
103, 160, 164–5, 169
gambling 121, 144 lord, the see master
genius 12, 25, 29, 47 love 7–11, 18, 20–2, 24, 33, 38, 44, 55, 67,
Gnosticism 9, 18, 42 69–71, 109, 115, 120, 170
goals 46, 50, 54, 76, 79, 81–3, 91–2, 95,
98, 103, 122, 142–3, 145, 148, 163–4; magic 9, 33, 49–50, 53, 151
see also ends malaise 33, 53, 126, 169
God-concept 8–14, 18, 23, 28, 33–5, 39, market-priced social relations 12, 22, 25,
42–3 36, 38, 65–6
guilt 67–8, 83, 97, 149, 165–6 master, the 12–13, 26, 31–2, 108, 120,
142, 164
happiness 48, 62–3, 65–6, 68–9, 79, 81–2, materialism 17, 22–3, 28, 38, 42, 51, 123
85, 88–90, 97, 100, 106, 115; see also meaningfulness 18, 21, 32, 37, 40, 46–51,
joy and enjoyment 55, 87, 91–2, 98, 102, 105, 107–8,
helplessness 52, 81, 107, 111, 113, 115, 110, 115–17, 119, 123–4, 129–30, 132,
117, 131, 142, 148–9, 157 138, 157
hierarchy 53, 62–3, 65–6, 70, 79, 109–10, meaninglessness xv–2, 11, 37, 48–51,
114, 133, 141, 150 53–4, 101–3, 105–9, 115–16, 118–20,
homelessness 9–10, 53, 141, 152 157, 159–61, 163, 167–8
212 Subject index
means 24, 32, 45–7, 49–50, 142, 144; powerlessness 1–2, 4, 31–4, 37, 39–40, 51,
see also ends 65, 105, 107, 111, 139–64, 168–70
mechanization 20–3, 26–8, 36–7, 47, present, the 38, 44, 92, 97–8, 100, 113,
51, 61 145, 147
Medieval times see Middle Ages pride 10–11, 16, 20–1, 24, 67, 71, 76, 79,
memory 91, 97–8, 103, 110, 120 81–312, 81–90, 123, 127, 129, 160, 163,
Middle Ages 9–12, 17, 21, 25, 33, 40, 49, 165; hubristic 102–3
108, 120, 136 primary emotions 4, 47, 54–5, 50–72;
modernity, modernization 9, 12–13, 15–17, see also acceptance; anger; anticipation;
19–20, 22–7, 31, 33–4, 36–8, 41, 43, disgust; fear; joy and enjoyment;
45–52, 60, 75–6, 91, 95, 109, 111, 119, sadness; surprise
126, 128, 168 problems of life see existential problems
money 12, 25, 38, 41, 46–7, 65, 151, proletariat 40–2, 38, 40, 50, 53, 75, 112–13
153–4 protection, defense 13, 55, 62–3, 87–8,
morality 11, 13, 15–17, 20, 23–5, 36, 118, 129, 132; see also fear
38, 45, 50, 48, 54, 71, 74–77, 79–81,
86, 88, 90, 92, 103, 105, 107, 109–11, quantitative reason 21, 23, 25, 27, 38, 47
114–20, 128
mortality see death; finitude rational(-ity, -ism, -ization) 11, 19–25, 28,
31, 34, 38, 45, 47–51, 53, 55, 64, 86,
nature 11–12, 14–15, 17, 21–9, 33–5, 107, 116, 121, 127, 136, 144–5
38–40, 42–4, 138, 169 reason 7, 11, 14, 17, 19–20, 22–3, 25–8,
New Left 51–3; see also Old Left 31–4, 38, 45, 47–50, 97, 102, 113, 116,
normlessness 1, 4, 52, 59, 73–7, 86–7, 89, 119, 124, 130, 144; see also analysis; logic
108, 157, 159–61, 163–4, 167–8 reintegration, social 9, 62–3, 65; see also
norms, sociocultural 43, 47–8, 50, 73–7, sadness
79–81, 86–90, 108, 116–19, 122, 132, rejection 49, 52, 62–3, 81, 87, 94–6, 110,
142, 147, 149, 157, 159, 164 112–13, 115–16, 122, 124–6, 128;
see also disgust
occupational specialization 1, 15, 22, relative deprivation 105, 111–14, 157, 160
25–7, 27, 36–7, 43, 45–6, 48, 106, 13, religion 1, 7–9, 12–13, 22–4, 32–5, 39, 44,
150, 1688 49–50, 77, 89, 94, 109–10
Old Left 41, 51–3; see also New Left Renaissance 10–12, 18, 21, 23, 45, 49
oppression 8–9, 13, 21, 26, 32, 40–2, 49, reproduction 60, 62–3, 65
77, 111–13, 116, 118, 120, 128, 169 repugnance 67, 92, 107; see also disgust
optimism 19, 49, 67, 112, 125, 145 resentment 53, 67–71, 105–7, 110–21,
outrage 53, 68–9, 99, 109, 114, 117–19, 157–8, 160–3, 170
121, 126, 160, 163, 165, 170 resignation 4, 68, 70, 95, 109, 143, 145–6,
153–7, 160, 164–5
pain 12, 28, 30–1, 33, 41, 84–5, 91–4, 96, ressentiment 105–11, 117, 120
100, 103, 107–9, 115, 129–30, 133, 147, resourcefulness and fatalism 68, 70, 143
156, 164 revolution: American 22; French 22;
passion 14–16, 19–21, 23–8, 31–3, 35, Industrial 25, 42; political 37, 40, 43,
38–9, 41, 43–4, 48, 66, 74–6, 89, 106, 51, 112–13; scientific 20, 45
110, 169 right hemisphere of brain 100, 104
past, the 25, 27, 38–9, 44, 97–8, 100, 110, romanticism 17, 20–31, 34–5, 37–44,
112–13, 120 47–9, 53, 71, 128, 168
pessimism 4, 10–11, 22, 67, 70, 94, 127, ruthlessness 32, 71, 73, 79–82, 85, 87, 108,
140, 143–5, 153–7, 160, 164–5, 169 159–63
poverty see economic stress
power, social xv–1, 8–9, 11–14, 17–18, sadness 10, 60, 62, 64–8, 70–1, 78, 82–5,
25, 27, 29, 31, 38, 40, 50, 75, 80–1, 102, 87–92, 94–101, 103, 112, 117, 121, 133,
106–10, 115, 117, 120–1, 124, 128, 132, 140–1, 143–6, 148–9, 151, 154, 156–7,
139, 141–3, 145, 147–52, 155, 157, 164 159–60, 162, 164–7, 169–70
 Subject index 213
science xv, 2, 13, 17–23, 25–8, 33–4, stranger, the 3, 8, 10, 55, 97
41–2, 44, 49–51, 53 submissiveness 4, 8, 13, 32, 64–7, 115,
scorn 11, 67, 80, 124, 127, 129, 163 143, 147–8, 150, 153–7, 160, 164–5
secondary emotions 4, 47, 54, 59–60, 62, suffering 26–7, 35, 38–9, 44, 52, 73, 76–7,
66–72, 121, 140, 157, 159–60, 163–7; 79–80, 82, 85, 92, 96, 100–1, 105–11,
see also abhorrence; aggressiveness; 115–16, 120, 126, 129, 142, 149, 151,
alarm; awe; confusion; curiosity; 157, 163
cynicism; derisiveness; disappointment; suicide 14, 18, 73–4, 77–8, 80–3, 85–90,
guilt; loneliness; love; outrage; 93–94, 96, 99, 101–4, 131, 137,
pessimism; pride; repugnance; 146, 169
resignation; resourcefulness and surprise 60, 62–3, 65–70, 78–9, 82, 85, 89,
fatalism; shame 91, 92–4, 95–100, 103, 113–14, 116–17,
self 4, 7–9, 13–19, 21–3, 27–34, 39–40, 125–6, 132–4, 135–7, 159–63, 166–7
42–3, 45–8, 52, 74–8, 80–1, 82–93,
97–106, 108–12, 115–19, 122–3, 125, technology 18, 20–2, 46
127, 130–3, 135, 139–40, 143, 145, 147, temporality 62–3, 65–6, 97, 100, 103,
149, 163–6 110, 133
self-esteem 15–16, 28, 82, 92, 118, 122, territoriality 62–6, 85, 92–3, 95–6, 101,
130–2, 137, 140, 147 103, 113, 116–17, 125, 132–3, 135,
self-estrangement xv–1, 3, 7–8, 11, 13, 141, 170
15–17, 25, 27, 29–31, 33–4, 39, 41–2, terror 24, 63, 122, 131, 134, 136–7, 160;
44, 48, 82, 91–104, 159–61, 163–9 see also fear; terror-management theory
sentiment 2–4, 20–2, 24, 28, 31, 36–7, 61, terror-management theory 130, 138
68, 70–2, 76–7, 90, 93, 106–8, 111–14, tertiary emotions 4, 54, 59, 60, 62, 68,
116, 120, 126, 139, 146, 154, 157, 169; 70–2, 79, 82, 94, 99, 103, 113–14, 117,
see also resentment; ressentiment 119, 121, 124, 130–1, 138, 160, 162–7;
separation 1–3, 7–10, 15, 22, 35, 38, 45–6, see also despair; discouragement;
91, 167–8 disdain; dread; resentment; ruthlessness
sexuality 10, 21, 23–4, 28–9, 35, 38–9, 41, theology see religion
44, 65, 112, 134–5, 149, 154–6
shame 16, 55, 67, 74, 79, 81–90, 97, 101, unhappy consciousness, the 33–4
110, 115, 143, 148–9, 153–7, 160, urban life 1, 17, 27, 45–7, 168
164–7, 170
shock 67–9, 91, 94, 97–9, 103, 118–19, valence of emotions 3–4, 55, 60, 62–5, 68,
121, 124, 131, 160, 163–5, 167, 170 72, 94, 97, 100, 114, 125, 134, 143, 149,
signature displays 64–6 159–62, 164–5, 167; see also emotion–
sin 8, 12–13, 76, 97, 130, 138 valence theory
skepticism 19–20, 32–3, 74, 127 values 1, 7, 16, 21–2, 27, 29, 32–3, 38–41,
slavery see bondage 46–52, 75, 77, 80, 87, 89, 105, 108–11,
social contract theory 13–18 113, 117, 119–20, 122–6, 128–30, 132,
socialism 41, 44, 51, 53 138, 141
social isolation xvi, 3, 37, 53, 96–7, 102, violence 16, 27, 73, 88, 106, 110, 118, 126,
123, 129, 169 128–9, 147, 149, 151
spirit 11, 21, 23, 31, 33–4, 36, 109,
144, 152 will 12–13, 15, 17, 21, 23, 34–5, 46–8,
status, social 8, 13, 16, 37, 41, 65, 81, 88, 53, 74–6, 100, 102, 105, 107–9, 121–2,
108–9, 111–12, 114, 141–2, 147–51, 126–7, 143, 163
153, 163 witchcraft 11, 49, 53, 109, 137
stoicism 21 world-alienation 4, 10–12