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Foreword

Attitudes towards drug addiction are continually changing, so much so that one might speak of them in terms of stylish currents. Fifteen years ago drug taking practically became a cult. Prophets like Timothy Leary spoke of “expanding consciousness,” and numerous young people from all classes followed the drug apostles, these Pied Pipers from Hamelin. I recall an interview with a young drug-using couple. When the possible harmful effects of drug use were discussed, this turned out to be something completely incomprehensible to them. Only good can result from good. A drug high is something so marvelous that it would be against the law of nature if such a marvelous thing should have a pernicious effect in the long run.

Intellectuals in particular, who from the beginning enthusiastically took part in the drug cult, slowly became aware of the tragic results of drug abuse. But people did not quickly abandon what I would almost call the “worship of drug addicts.” There arose everywhere a certain faithfulness towards drug addicts; people saw in them the helpless sacrifice of an angry society, sensitive people suffering for us, who in our insensitivity hardly register the pervasive sickness of our society.

Today the interest in drug addiction, the cult – and also the veneration of drug addicts as the sacrifice of an angry society – has subsided. What remains are thousands of young people who are not getting off drugs, and who end up as pitiable figures in public squares, producing feelings of guilt, pity and dismay in passers-by.

Psychiatrists, psychologists, social workers, and not least the police, wring their hands in daily despair about these apparently burnt-out young people. A young man, numbed by drugs, passive, with only one interest, to get the stuff again as soon as possible, is a profoundly depressing sight. Where is the consciousness expanding effect then? Is this really the conscious sacrifice of a brutal society?

Luigi Zoja helps us understand the phenomenon in all its contradictions. He brings drug addiction into its larger cultural context, but on the other hand he does not use too high a style and does not lapse into sentimentality.

He attempts to understand the drug problem in connection with initiation, specifically with the absence of initiation rituals. On one hand, rituals of initiation are something decidedly important; on the other, the rituals that would satisfy these psychological needs today are for the most part lost to us. There are at any rate still traces of these initiation rituals all around us. I am reminded of the confirmation celebrations of the Catholic and Protestant churches; and, in many countries, military service is still experienced as an initiation. But all of these are still vestiges; very many young people experience nothing that even distantly approaches an introduction, an initiation into a larger association with its secular and religious ideas.

Luigi Zoja did not write his book in order to stress the importance of initiatory rituals. Most important to him is an understanding of drug addicts, but in a subtle way he shows how the drug addict in his addiction seeks initiation.

I find the present book to be of the greatest importance for anyone who has anything to do with drug addicts. The danger is always that, if one is involved with broken down, dispirited drug addicts, one becomes discouraged, indeed even starts to despise them and forget that a very complex and psychological process is playing itself out in them. The cultural exaltation and veneration of drug users fifteen years ago was, after all, not completely groundless, at least not any more so than today’s critical and accusatory stance towards them. Drug victims, either addicts or users, are not above all helpless weaklings, but rather fellow people who suffer under an unsatisfactory cultural formation and often collapse upon it. The difficulties of understanding drug addicts are to keep all this constantly in view and to realize completely, on the one hand, the misery and the helplessness of these addicts and, on the other hand, the laudable attempt of these unhappy people to arrive, in a bizarre and almost perverse manner, at an initiation, at an introduction into the secrets of life.

Zoja is, like no one else, capable of understanding drug addiction. He has worked intensively in therapy with drug addicts, and thus has practical experience, but he is also a depth psychologist with a Jungian background, and as such he is in the position to recognize and take seriously the deeper motivations and the unfulfilled needs of drug addicts.

Strangely enough, one generally understands by “drugs” only a specific type of intoxicant, though not alcohol. But alcohol is also a drug, and an alcoholic is a drug addict. Luigi Zoja is concerned in his book with drug addiction in the widest sense, including alcoholism. Every substance which causes mental alterations can be viewed as a drug and can make one addicted, be it a hard or a soft drug, be it hashish, LSD or heroin, be it alcohol or psychoactive substances.

There exists today the great danger that drug addiction – here taken in the widest sense – is understood only on the basis of individual psychopathology, and ultimately on the basis of a pathogenetic family history. In contrast to the attitude of fifteen years ago, the pendulum has swung all too much back to the other side. The larger cultural connections still interest only a few psychiatrists and psychologists. Zoja concerns himself with the problem of addiction not from a momentary stylish attitude; rather, he possesses a broader and temporally less specific overview of the phenomenon. His book is the expression of a deep care for a large group of suffering fellow people who need our understanding and our help.

Adolf Guggenbühl-Craig

1. Introduction

The incest taboo is generally considered the most primordial, the most deeply rooted and widespread of cultural institutions. It is hard to imagine how vast and complex the consequences would be if that taboo were somehow to disappear. The same holds true for other cultural institutions, most strikingly that of initiation. In the introduction to his Rites and Symbols of Initiation, Mircea Eliade writes that the disappearance of initiation is in fact one of the principal differences between the ancient world and the modern.1

The institution of initiation was once almost as widespread and pervasive as the incest taboo, but its gradual dissolution is a relatively diffuse and more recent phenomenon, brought about for the first time by our own modern Western civilization. Not only do we lack any conclusions as far as the consequences of this loss are concerned, but the problem itself has only been addressed superficially, if at all. The only author who frequently addresses the problem is, once again, Eliade.

Initiation played a prominent role in all traditional societies not yet profaned by industrialization and modernization. In our contemporary culture, however, and especially in the last few decades, one seems to be able to identify various attempts at reviving initiation and the esoterism associated with it. In a society which tends toward the leveling out of “differences” in the negative sense of the word, the need to feel different in a positive sense is reawakening – the need to belong to an elect group possessing some additional and deeper truth.

We appear to live under conditions that are, for the most part, de-sacralized. However, it is enough just to scratch the surface of the situation to rediscover many elements of a real religious state, the survival of which manifests itself indirectly, especially in a need for esoteric and initiatory experiences. This study of initiation in its modern manifestations, though primarily based on depth psychology, will nonetheless refer directly to other disciplines, both because the various notes upon which this study is based already have a composite structure of their own (they are drawn from my seminars at the Milan Institute of the Italian Center of Analytical Psychology, subsequently amplified and presented in German at the C.G. Jung Institute, Zürich), and in order to avoid any psychological reductionism. The one area we have least called into play, and to which we have made only indirect references, is that of religion. This is certainly not due to lack of interest, since after all this entire study is dedicated to our sense of nostalgia for the sacred, but because I feel that religion is more a question of personal attitudes and convictions than it is a foundation upon which interpretations can be made.

Our approach has certain consequences on the interpretive models we will use. The fundamental structure of initiation stresses a “passage,” but this can be seen as a passage from the profane to the sacred, or simultaneously as a passage through various phases of death and rebirth. The decision not to encroach directly upon the religious question dictates that we rely primarily on the second of the two initiatory models.

In the survival of the need for initiation, we will recognize above all a persistent desire for personal regeneration. We no longer have to speak of a latent need, since that need is today quite open and manifest. There exists a real demand for esoteric, initiatory experiences, yet those who cater to that demand are often unconscious of what they are doing. Even among those who profess themselves to be “masters” able to provide initiatory experiences we find a certain lack of awareness. Depth psychology itself often falls into the same trap, with offshoot groups straying into fields that are extraneous but tinted with esoterism. This is not to say that these “masters” are motivated by purely utilitarian concerns, but it should not be forgotten that becoming a “master” is often a self-serving compensation for personal problems.

In general, groups rather than individuals tend to assume initiatory functions, since not many individuals have the necessary experience to become masters. Such groups – cults ideological, religious, etc. … – tend to institutionalize the initiatory process, the various groups splintering into specialized sub-groups, a process of bureaucratization developing, all of which ensures the survival of the groups themselves, if not the satisfaction of their adherents’ psychic needs. Unfortunately, the “rites” involved are often inventions of the intellect rather than attempts at consolidating truly meaningful experiences. Rites in any case are not invented, but arise over time and with the participation of many individuals, indeed of many generations.

The person who seeks instruction, the potential “adept,” may be an individual with a complex personality who is unsatisfied by the traditional rules and truths of society. More often than not, he is a lonely person in search of fellowship, and his search is not for ordinary persons, but for “masters.” His needs will only be partially satisfied, since what he will encounter above all are institutions which cannot respond to his deeper individual needs.

These institutions are generally able to provide information and even a genuine type of instruction, but not initiation. Mircea Eliade asserts that the only form of genuine initiatory structures today is in artistic-literary creation. All things considered, modern society is practically unable to provide institutional initiation. Such initiation calls for masters and structures formed over a long period of time and in the context of a whole participating culture. Initiation presupposes that biological birth brings man into the world only partially, in an absolutely vegetative condition lacking values and transcendence.

Access to a higher state of being is possible only through symbolic and ritual death and regeneration.2

The first thing we should note is that, in order to produce rites and ceremonies convincing both to the individual and to his surrounding society, initiation requires a culture whose relationship with death is not simply one of opposition, a culture which does not view death as the body’s greatest pathology, but which also sees it as an experience of the soul’s transformation.3 Initiation calls for a culture which does not seek to negate death, which doesn’t see it as a finality, but for a culture able to symbolically appreciate death as a beginning.4 The type of society in which initiation played an institutional role was a society in which death itself had an official position. It is no accident that both of these conditions have disappeared together.

If regenerative experiences are to be granted an official capacity within a society, the society in question must be a relatively simple one in which an individual’s life can easily be separated from that of his neighbors. It must also be possible to isolate, with relative ease, the various phases of life from each other. The initiate is reborn, but he remains in this world where he must go on eating and living, and to a certain extent socializing – where he must remain tied to his mundane duties and commitments.

A modern complex society, generally speaking, offers relatively greater individual freedom, but also greatly increases the limits entailed by the individual’s mundane existence. Does this society allow an individual to radically alter his condition without setting off a series of contradictions that would alienate him from the world? The question is hard to answer, since the structure of modern life tends to eliminate possibilities of radical change. Ideological conversions, such as becoming a member of a political group, generally have few if any institutional characteristics, so it is hard to determine what their ramifications are in terms of the initiatory model.

Visible and institutionally recognized possibilities for renewal face, in our times, almost insuperable obstacles. A person often spends as much time studying for his profession as he later dedicates to it – thus radical changes of activity are from the very outset discouraged by the majority mentality. Contemporary economic structures, the need, for instance, to build one’s credit by assuming debts, also tend to foster stasis in one’s mode of living. Cultural factors discourage radical change in the actual material conditions of life and thus create a kind of psychological stasis, which from the point of view of fantasy leaves little room for imagining oneself in terms of renewal.

With the exception of the churches, whose official role is by and large decreasing, institutions tend towards practical results while relegating the problem of his own interior development to the individual. As mentioned above, institutions consequently do not address the problem of initiation, a problem which arises today as the return of an aspect of culture that has been repressed, as a need once satisfied but now denied by our official culture, and consequently manifested in occult or unconscious ways. Like most archetypal processes, initiation produces a ritual framework around itself. A group of “officiants” can thus quite easily form, held together by shared arcana, by the use of initiatory language, and by the celebration of rituals in common. Around the need for initiation, organizations are born, neither official nor conscious that they have at least partially an initiatory function. From this point of view, we can see how the repression of a need satisfied for thousands of years entails not only individual risks but also collective ones.

The latent need for secret groups and initiatory experiences can at times result in the formation of occult power structures, such as in terrorist groups, for example. It would be overly simplistic to interpret the initiatory aspect of these groups as mere expedients guaranteeing maximum efficiency and secrecy. The decisive element in the initiation into a terrorist group, for instance, often consists of the perpetration of a criminal act which cuts the initiate off from legal society and makes his bond with his colleagues concrete and real.

In general it is the occult structure which grows out of a need for esoterism, not the other way around. The need for esoterism seems to be present even when it is not understood, even in the “secrecy” games of children. Secret rituals inherently call for respect and solemnity, and aside from their functional aspect, they are fascinating and arouse the curiosity of outsiders.

Both literature and cinema have exploited this theme, drawing not so much on the public’s political interests as on its latent curiosity for the hidden, for the secrecy of ritual. Though more or less indifferent to the ideological particularities of terrorist groups, the public at large responds to depictions of them with a mixture of horror and fascinated curiosity.

An analysis of the need for esoterism is of interest to us as we attempt to understand the phenomenon of drug addiction. From the point of view of the unconscious, turning to drugs can be understood as an attempt at a kind of initiation defective in its basic premise because of a lack of awareness. The “true” process of initiation – an initiation that fulfills the initiate’s underlying psychic needs – can be encapsulated in three distinct phases.

First, the situation at the outset is one that must be transcended because of its meaninglessness. In order to transcend his meaningless state of existence, the adolescent in a primitive society entrusted himself to the initiatory process, which imbued him with a complete, adult identity. Similarly, the individual in our own society – passive, lost, condemned to a state of mere consumerism – secretly dreams of transforming himself into a separate, creative adult, no longer bound to consumerism.

Second, initiatory death. This phase entails a renunciation of the world, the rejection of one’s previous identity, and the withdrawal of the libido from its habitual direction (in our society, this consists in above all refraining from consumerist behavior).

Third, initiatory rebirth, made psychologically easier by sharing the experience with others and by ritual – for instance, the controlled consumption of drugs. (The fantasy of control almost always exists in young drug users, but is for the most part only possible within the cultural context of certain primitive societies.)

Our society’s drug users fail to accomplish this process not so much because of how they take drugs (which is more often than not uncontrolled than controlled), but because they entirely omit the second phase, initiatory death. They are from the very outset intoxicated, not with a particular substance, but with the very consumerism they wish to negate – but consumerism does not allow for renunciation, or depression, or psychic voids of any kind. What today’s users lack is the interior space which, together with external rituals, serves to contain the experience of renewal.

It might have been better, in the interest of a more rigorous analysis and in order to introduce new concepts, to use the term drug initiation instead of drug addiction. The actual object of our investigation is the fantasy, unconscious or not, that equates the encounter with a drug with the encountering of a new world and a new life – without the degeneration entailed by remaining in that drug-induced world. The term “drug initiate” would thus refer to that hypothetical individual who doesn’t abuse drugs, but who uses them as a means of satisfying his innate, archetypal need for initiation. Because of psychic factors outlined in the following chapters, the contemporary drug user is never able to fully renounce the demands of his ego, a vital element in his “initiatory death.” We will consequently employ the terms “drug user” or “drug addict,” which today connote tremendous psychic and physical suffering, only because the “drug initiate” is a concept, a hypothetical ideal impossible to achieve in the context of our consumerist culture. Under ideal conditions, were all drug users “drug initiates,” the initial moment (taking a drug) would correspond to the initiatory moment (achieving transcendence). As we will see in the following chapters, drug consumption in so-called primitive societies is often quantitatively limited and qualitatively sheltered from the abuse of individual pathologies.

The psychological interpretation we are proposing, the initiatory moment – not to be confused with the initial moment – is what is of real importance. If, in fact, the expectations lying beneath the initiatory moment are archetypal, then they never die but rather continue to recur both as collective manifestations and individual pathologies. This study is not directed at the field of psychopathology, but is rather an investigation of the unconscious models which lead one to drugs despite the dangers involved. The investigation is not without clinical interest, even though it concentrates on the overall phenomenon rather than on the individual case of drug addiction.

What are the unconscious urges that lead a person into the vicious circle of addiction? Certainly, a degree of curiosity is involved. If we keep in mind that our bodies today have a very great tolerance for foreign substances, then we can imagine that this curiosity – this unconscious expectation – is not easily repressed, and that even when an apparently physical vicious circle of dependence is finally established, that the curiosity is some unrecognized psychological factor fueling the dependence itself. Our thesis is that the act of turning to drugs activates certain archetypal expectations which do not diminish as physical addiction sets in.

It should be noted that initiation and the process of drug use both adhere to similar archaic unconscious models, an argument important in and of itself. I am not attempting to address the question as to whether this potential model might have developed phylogenetically or if it were present ab origine. We cannot say that we have found a particular myth or specific god metaphoric of initiation or drug addiction. Initiation, and the use of drugs which unconsciously echoes its structure, is fundamentally an archetypal process, bi-polar like all archetypal themes (based on the opposition of life and death) and therefore impossible to personify, since it potentially belongs to any type of personality. Initiation assumes mythic forms in every culture, as do all solemn events, but it does not derive from one myth valid for all peoples. For each people, initiation is a means of returning mythic life to the commonality, and of conferring upon the individual a certain state of grace mere biological birth cannot provide.

1 Eliade, M. Rites and Symbols of Initiation. New York: Harper & Row, 1958.

2 Eliade defines this ancient procedure as a set of rites and oral teachings aimed at drastically altering the religious and social status of the individual undergoing initiation. The neophyte becomes, as it were, another person. Later in the same work, Eliade asserts that what initiation does in modern terms is put an end to the “natural man” and introduce the undifferentiated individual to culture. See Eliade, M., Initiation, rites, sociétés secrètes, Paris: Gallimard, 1959, pp. 12 and 20. See also Baudrillard, J., L’échange symbolique et la mort. Paris: Gallimard, 1976. For information on initiation as a bridge between the sacred and the profane, see Eliade’s The Sacred and the Profane. New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1968.

3 For psychological as opposed to medical discussion on the subject, see Hillman, J., Suicide and the Soul. Dallas: Spring, 1978.

4 The radical transformation of the concept of death in our culture has been the subject of many analyses, especially in France and the USA. See Aries, P., Western Attitudes Towards Death From the Middle Ages to the Present. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1974. Also, see my two articles on the topic, “Working Against Dorian Gray: Analysis and the Old,” in The Journal of Analytic Psychology, vol. 28,1,1983, pp 51-64, and “La pietra e la banana,” in von Franz, Frey-Rohn, Jaffé, Zoja, Incontri con la morte. Milan: Raffaello Cortina, 1984.