The Courage to Be Disliked

“‘The world is simple and life is simple, too’—if there is anything in this thesis that might contain truth, it would be life from a child’s point of view. Children do not have any obvious duties, like paying taxes or going to work. They are protected by their parents and society, and can spend days free from care. They can imagine a future that goes on forever and do whatever they want. They don’t have to see grim reality—they are blindfolded. So, to them the world must have a simple form.”

This quote from the youth foreshadows his transformation and some of the philosopher’s arguments. The youth repeats this exact quote—“The world is simple and life is simple too”—as he leaves their final conversation, having fully internalized the philosopher’s message. Furthermore, his comments about the future and about being blindfolded foreshadow the philosopher’s suggestion to shine a bright spotlight on the present so as to avoid the temptation to try to see the future. Thus, the authors encapsulate the entirety of their arguments within this initial exchange, and the rest of the book is dedicated to unpacking each philosophical premise in detail and applying it to practical situations.

“We determine our own lives according to the meaning we give to those past experiences. Your life is not something that someone gives you, but something you choose yourself, and you are the one who decides how you live.”

By using the pronouns “we” and “our,” the philosopher emphasizes his focus on forging a horizontal relationship with the young man rather than asserting a sense of his own dominance or superiority. To this end, he focuses on their parallel life experiences. By noting that his own life is not given to him, the philosopher brings the responsibility back to the young man in order to prime him for future explanations about the concept of agency.

“If you deny emotion, you’re upholding a view that tries to deny our humanity, too. Because it’s our emotions, and the fact that we are swayed by all sorts of feelings, that make us human.”

The young man voices a common confusion and critique of Adlerian psychology: that Adler’s dismissal of trauma denies the existence and validity of human emotion. Under the logical premise that Adler denies emotion, then it may be true that he denies what makes people human. Later, however, the philosopher refutes this statement, but the authors’ deliberate use of faulty logic—voiced by the young man—demonstrates the importance of Socratic dialogue to the process of unpacking each statement’s true meaning.

“All your doubts will be dispelled through this dialogue. And you will begin to change.”

Using a subtle form of alliteration to add weight and rhythm to his words, the philosopher simply states his demonstration of faith in Socratic dialogue, and the very simplicity of his assertion is designed to create a sense of its innate moral truth. His statement makes it clear that the young man will begin to change by engaging in dialogue; the philosopher does not assert that he or his ideas will inspire this change in the young man. The distinction is an important one, for the philosopher ultimately places the key emphasis upon the very process of Socratic dialogue and does not hold the sense of hubris that a vertical relationship between the two would cause.

“In spite of himself, the young man got up and glared at the philosopher. I chose an unhappy life? Because it was good for me? What an absurd argument! Why is he going to such lengths to ridicule me? What did I do wrong? I’ll dismantle his argument, no matter what it takes. I’ll make him kneel before me. The young man’s face flushed with excitement.”

In this rare departure from dialogue, the young man’s thoughts and internal feelings are described. He thinks in rhetorical questions because he has already made up his mind about what he wants to do: “make him kneel before me.” The use of the word “excitement” at the end shows that the man enjoys his own righteous indignation because he wants to prove the philosopher wrong.

“In fact, if we were to ask ourselves who is the strongest person in our culture, the logical answer would be, the baby. The baby rules and cannot be dominated. The baby rules over the adults with his weakness.”

By using the example of the baby, the philosopher takes his argument to the extreme in order to subvert the young man’s views on strength and superiority. By quoting Adler himself, the philosopher establishes a sense of ethos that lends weight to his argument. This exchange also reveals the book’s deeper purpose, which is to address and explain the more heavily debated aspects of Adlerian psychology in order to convince a largely skeptical audience. In this, the young man serves as the avatar for every potential critic of Adler’s philosophy.

“Rather, he’s saying that on the same level playing field, there are people who are moving forward, and there are people who are moving forward behind them. Keep that image in mind.”

The philosopher frequently uses concrete imagery in order to help the youth understand the concept of superiority as an individual pursuit rather than as a competition. The playing field in this metaphor is level, meaning that there is no vertical hierarchy; everyone is on equal footing, even if they are not at the same place on the field.

“If romantic love is a relationship connected by red string, then the relationship between parents and children is bound in rigid chains. And a pair of small scissors is all you have. This is the difficulty of the parent-child relationship.”

The philosopher uses a metaphor to explain the difference between a romantic relationship and a parental relationship. This metaphor reinforces the importance of interpersonal relationships in determining one’s well-being. By stressing the impossibility of breaking “rigid chains” with “small scissors,” the philosopher suggests that one must face their inescapable relationships rather than trying to break free of them altogether.

“‘Your argument is an abhorrent, dangerous way of thinking, which will drive human beings into isolation and lead to conflict. It’s a diabolical solicitation to needlessly stir up distrust and doubt.’ PHILOSOPHER: ‘Ha-ha, you certainly have an interesting vocabulary. There’s no need to raise your voice—let’s think about this together.’”

In this passage, the young man accuses the philosopher of being dangerous and diabolical, and of aiming to force people into isolation. The young man uses advanced vocabulary in his speech in order to convey the sense that his stance is fully legitimate, but the philosopher’s response shows that when one practices the separation of tasks, one refuses to take seriously another person’s projections. Rather than growing hostile or defensive when faced with the youth’s attack, he immediately invites his companion to reengage with Socratic dialogue.

“Ha-ha! Not only are you a nihilist, you’re an anarchist and a hedonist to boot. I’m past being astonished, and now I’m going to start laughing any moment.”

Once again, the youth focuses upon maintaining a vertical relationship with the philosopher, using harsh labels to pursue his goal of “winning” an argument with the other. However, the array of shifting emotions that he reveals actually suggest that he is beginning to internalize the philosopher’s message to a certain degree. Within seconds, he moves from anger to shock to humor in order to cope with his emotions, and his turmoil implies the existence of a core of uncertainty.

“Interpersonal relations are the source of unhappiness. And the opposite can be said, too—interpersonal relations are the source of happiness.”

By using repetition to state these truths back-to-back, the philosopher uses a turning point in his language to signal a turning point in his argument. Instead of getting to the root of why the young man is anxious, he explains what the young man might do differently in order to be happy. The seeming contradiction in his assertion also underlines the complexities of interpersonal relations, indicating that a person’s underlying purpose in engaging in relationships with others will determine whether or not the dynamic gives rise to happiness. This passage is therefore connected to the book’s focus on The Grounding Influence of Community and Contribution.

“How much do others pay attention to you, and what is their judgment of you? That is to say, how much do they satisfy your desire? People who are obsessed with such a desire for recognition will seem to be looking at other people, while they are actually looking only at themselves. They lack concern for others and are concerned solely with the ‘I.’ Simply put, they are self-centered.”

By asking rhetorical questions and using objective, hypothetical language, the philosopher takes the desire for recognition to its logical endpoint, revealing that all those who seek recognition are essentially self-centered. However, he deliberately shifts his use of pronouns, changing from “you” to “people” and “they” in order to soften the blow of the label.

“That’s not philosophy or psychology or anything of the sort—it’s just the preaching of a zealot!”

In an effort to strip the philosopher of his self-identification as a philosopher who studies psychology, the young man discounts the philosopher’s ideas by claiming that they belong to neither field. By calling the philosopher a zealot, the young man invokes a false image of an unreasoning, uncompromising faith. By attacking the philosopher’s ideas in this way, the man employs the logical fallacy of name-calling in the hopes that discounting the philosopher’s stance will provide him with an escape from his own pain, which arises from the desire to change.

“To believe or to doubt—the choice should be clear.”

Using parallelism, the philosopher puts the youth’s fundamental life choices in the simplest of terms, reframing the youth’s potential approaches to his interpersonal relationships. By stating his point simply while still declining to offer a definitive answer, the philosopher demonstrates his belief in the separation of tasks, leaving it up to the young man to make this decision for himself.

“Now, how come I have a feeling of contribution in that setting? I have it because I am able to think of the members of my family as comrades.”

After describing a situation in which a mother does the dishes for her family, the philosopher puts himself in her situation in order to personalize the discussion. He also uses a rhetorical question to explain how he would feel and why, making his logic clear to the youth. His words also emphasize The Grounding Influence of Community and Contribution.

“Do you see it now? In a word, happiness is the feeling of contribution. That is the definition of happiness.”

The philosopher’s question reflects his belief in change through dialogue, and eventually, the young man will come to perceive this truth himself. By defining happiness simply, and in terms of a concept that they have already been discussing, he hopes that the young man will draw this conclusion himself.

“The young man’s pulse was racing, and despite the wintry chill in the air, his clenched fists shone with sweat.”

Near the end of their conversation, the young man’s past self makes one final stand. In this scene, his racing pulse and clenched fists show the toll that the inner transformation is taking on his body, and he tries once more to prove the philosopher wrong.

“So while you reject looking back, you are rejecting looking forward, too. It’s like you’re telling me to just walk blindfolded along a pathless path.”

Referencing his own initial simile of the blindfold, the young man communicates his sense that the philosopher’s request for him to live in the present is ridiculous. Ironically, he is describing what the philosopher is asking him to do. Later, instead of agreeing with the simile of the blindfold, the philosopher proposes his own simile: It is not that one is blindfolded, it is that one sees the present in such brightness that nothing else is visible.

“‘Not having objectives or the like is fine. Living earnestly here and now is itself a dance. One must not get too serious. Please do not confuse being earnest with being too serious.’ YOUTH: ‘Be earnest but not too serious.’”

The philosopher draws an analogy, using a metaphor to compare living in the present to the act of dancing. He suggests that even without specific goals, the act of living in the present remains worthwhile. Notably, the youth repeats the philosopher’s warning verbatim, and this easy acquiescence contrasts sharply with his earlier arguments and signals the end of his great resistance.

“The greatest life-lie of all is to not live here and now. It is to look at the past and the future, cast a dim light on one’s entire life, and believe that one has been able to see something.”

By using a term that he introduced to the man weeks ago, the philosopher emphasizes the importance of the greatest life-lie. Continuing his spotlight metaphor, he warns against shining a dim light on the past or the present and engaging in the fantasy that one can see anything.

“I think this discussion has now reached the water’s edge. Whether you drink the water or not is entirely up to you.”

The philosopher signals the end of their conversation by referencing a metaphor that he initially used to explain the separation of tasks in their third conversation: “You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink” (125). By referencing this metaphor, he embodies Adler’s separation of tasks and communicates that it is now up to the young man to decide whether to follow the philosopher’s advice.

“I cannot tell yet if it is I who have changed, or if it is the world that I can see from that vantage point that has changed. But there is one thing I can say with conviction: Here and now is shining brightly! Yes, it is so bright that I can see almost nothing of tomorrow.”

Continuing the spotlight metaphor, the youth communicates that he has already begun to adopt the philosopher’s perspective. Even with his uncertainties as to the true nature of his internal changes, the young man feels grounded in the present and expresses his excitement with a series of emphatic exclamations.

“‘And I won’t be saying anything more about taking apart your arguments.’ PHILOSOPHER: ‘Ha-ha! At last, you have shown me a young person’s smile.’”

In this scene, the young man finally relinquishes his self-centered goal of proving the philosopher wrong. The philosopher does not even acknowledge this confession; instead, he laughs and focuses on the fact that the young man has smiled. This positive, judgment-free response exemplifies the philosopher’s perspective of others as his comrades rather than his rivals.