Shame, Exposure and Privacy
Chapters 3 and 4
by Carl D. Schneider, Ph.D.
| ... though the forms
of modesty may change, it is yet a very radical constituent of human
nature in all stages of civilization .... --Havelock Ellis |
Although the English language has only one word
for shame, Indo-European languages commonly have two or more: Greek has
available the various meanings of aischyne, aeikes, entrope, elencheie,
and aidos;1 Latin can draw upon foedus, macula, pudor,
turpitudo,
and;2 German has Scham and Schande;3 and French, honte
and pudeur.4 Kurt Riezler suggests the differences in the latter
pair:
Pudeur is shame felt
before, and warning against, an action; honte is felt after an action....
Before an action that endangers the thing in the making, the bashful
will timidly hesitate and resist--the case of pudeur; after an act
that harms, hurts, or soils, shame will burn in the memory--the
case of honte.5
|
Our first image of shame in English
idiom is of honte, not pudeur. For us shame is largely synonymous with being
ashamed, with disgrace. We do not think of pudeur--shame felt before--as
shame. To find an English equivalent for pudeur, we need to employ the phrase.
"a sense of shame,"6 which is in fact one of the basic meanings
of the word shame itself.7 Our society, in thinking of shame
primarily in terms of disgrace. fails to understand the significant role
as a positive restraining influence that the sense of shame--as modesty
or discretion--plays in human experience.
Before the Act: Shame as
Discretion
The difficulties in describing
what shame is are reflected in the dictionary definition where shame is
varyingly described as a sentiment, a state of mind, a disposition, an
attitude, a feeling-all of which, of course, are not the same thing in
psychology. Some authors claim, further, that it is inaccurate to describe
shame only in terms of an intrapsychic state, since it is a phenomenon
that refers to a total situation and not merely to a subjective reaction.
Disgrace-shame clearly seems to be an affect; discretion-shame is more
difficult to locate.8 Is it an emotion? The spontaneous blush
of modesty indicates that it may be, and Darwin so conceived it. But when
we implore someone "Don't you have any shame?" we appear to be appealing
to something both volitional and dispositional.
All of these differences, of course,
reflect and determine the varying ethical evaluations shame receives.
If it is seen as an emotion, it can hardly qualify as a virtue. Feelings
are variable and unpredictable while virtues refer to settled dispositions,
to habitual tendencies to act in certain ways and according to certain
principles. Both Aristotle and Aquinas, for example, regard shame as a
feeling, and consequently give it a low ethical evaluation.9
Spinoza, while also refusing to accept shame as a virtue, argues that
it is "comparatively good," possibly leading to good without being a virtue."10
The close parallel between shame
and modesty, on the other hand, suggests an ethical element in shame,
inasmuch as modesty is normally treated as a virtue. Cicero, for example,
regarded modesty as a masculine virtue, the equivalent of the Greek sophrosune
("moderation," "temperance"). The connection between shame and virtue
is even more closely established when we note that cultures regularly
give shamelessness a negative connotation. The concept of shamelessness
suggests that the lack of a proper sense of shame is a moral deficiency
and that the possession of a sense of shame is a moral obligation. Havelock
Ellis argues that our confusion about the nature of shame and modesty
stems precisely from the fact that Christianity effects a union of "natural
emotion" and "the masculine virtue of modesty --modestia."11
The intractability of shame when
one tries to categorize it as an emotion or a disposition resembles a
very old and knotty debate in Christian thought concerning the nature
of love. Is love an emotion, a feeling? If so, how is it possible that
Jesus can command persons to love? If love is not an emotion, is it a
disposition, an attitude of will, a norm, a way of acting toward others?
This debate recurs throughout the literature of Christian ethics and theology.
Discussions that make any headway with this question seem compelled to
employ synonyms for love or to make distinctions among kinds of love (for
example, agape and eros) to indicate what we are speaking of.
The nature of shame similarly requires
synonyms and distinctions, such as we have made between honte and pudeur,
disgrace-shame and discretion-shame. Being ashamed is an affect; a sense
of shame involves something more than emotion. The kinship of a sense
of shame with modesty and its converse in shamelessness suggests a degree
of settled disposition, or at least attitude. In speaking of discretion
we are also implying a perceptual component. The sense of shame recognizes
what is the proper attitude, the fitting response. This perceptual quality
of shame further points toward the necessity of considering the context
that is perceived. The human context involves the total situation within
which shame occurs. Shame, then, is not "just a feeling," but reflects
an order of things. Furthermore, discretion-shame not only reflects, but
sustains, our personal and social ordering of the world. Some examples
may make this more concrete.
In the Metamorphoses,
Ovid, in his famous description of the Four Ages of the World, vividly
depicts the connection between shame and the social order. Humanity's
first state, he says, was a Golden Age, in which innocence and justice
determined human relations. Punishment, and the fear of it, did not exist;
there was no war, and "the minds of men, free from care, enjoyed an easy
tranquillity." Nature participated in this harmony: the earth itself,
"untouched by the harrow, and wounded by no ploughshares, of its own accord
. . . yielded crops of grain, and the land... was whitened with the heavy
ears of corn." In succeeding ages, however, the harmony of man and nature
was disturbed, until there came the last age of hard iron, a time of wickedness
and impiety. "Immediately every species of crime burst forth," and "shame
[pudor], truth and honour took flight; in their place succeeded fraud,
deceit, treachery, violence, and the cursed hankering for acquisition."12
It is a hard age, Ovid recognizes, which has no room for shame. Ovid,
accordingly, values shame, laments its loss, and longs for its restoration.
Discretion-shame,
then, to Ovid is fundamentally a positive quality, functioning to sustain
what Augustine spoke of as "the right order of values." Others have shared
his opinion: the characteristics of this shame are evident in Julio Caro
Baroja's description of verguenza ("shame") in Spanish society:
| "Shame" depicts for us
the basis of an honourable life, and "shamelessness" the read to
infamy. The juridical texts support these assertions. |
| "Shame," as the Sages
said, "is the sign of timidity, which is born of true love."13 |
The French writer Dugas shares this sentiment:
| There is a very close
relationship between naturalness, or sincerity, and modesty [pudeur]
for in love naturalness is the ideal attained, and modesty is only
the fear of coming short of that ideal .... Modesty is the feeling
of the true.... modesty is the respect of love.14 |
For Bareja and Dugas, shame is desirable because
it is seen as exercising an appropriate restraint for the sake of a valued
relationship. Ancient Greek culture will provide us with one last example
of how the restraining power of the sense of shame sustains the right order
of things. Homer, in the last books of the Iliad, describes how Achilles
avenges the death of his friend Patreclus by killing his slayer Hector.
When Achilles refuses to stop with this act, however, horror ensues as he
denies the claims of shame. Still enraged, he shamefully desecrates Hector's
body. Fastening the body by its feet to a chariot, he drags it round the
city: "[Hector's ] head... tumbled in the dust... defiled in the land of
his fathers." Priam, Hector's father, groans in anguish at this sight, and
attempts to go out from the city to entreat Achilles to "have respect [aidessai]
for my age." But Achilles, still beside himself, again desecrates Hector's
body by dragging it three times around Patroclus's tomb.
At this sight, Apollo in a speech
to the gods urges that Achilles "has destroyed pity, and there is not
in him any shame [aidos]." In desecrating Hector he has demeaned himself,
and "nothing is gained thereby for his good, or his honour."
Finally, Priam goes to Achilles'
tent as a suppliant, and implores, "Honour [aideio] then the gods,
Achilleus,
and take pity upon me."15 Achilles is at last moved by this
appeal, and returns the body to Priam for proper burial. Commenting on
this passage, John Ferguson observes that it is in the aides, the respect-shame
that Achilles finally shows toward the humbled Priam "that the highest
morality of the Homeric poems is to be seen."16 Achilles, transcending
the prudential element that so colored Greek morality, is moved by sympathy
for Priam and respect-shame before the gods to check his own passion.
After the Act: Shame as
Disgrace
Being ashamed is a more ambivalent
phenomenon than the sense of shame. If discretion-shame sustains the personal
and social ordering of the world, disgrace-shame is a painful experience
of the disintegration of one's world. A break occurs in the self's relationship
with itself and/or others. An awkward, uncomfortable space opens up in
the world. The self is no longer whole, but divided. It feels less than
it wants to be, less than at its best it knows itself to be. Disgrace-shame
is painful, unexpected, and disorienting. This has a positive as well
as an obvious negative side. Shame is painful. Aristotle puts this painful
quality at the heart of shame: "Let shame then be defined as a kind of
pain or uneasiness in respect of misdeeds past, present, or future,
which seems to bring dishonour ...."17 Kurt Riezler captures
the depth of pain and the intensity of suffering involved in being put
to shame:
| Interference in the relation
between man and himself is a still more powerful source of hate.
A man puts another human being to shame. You are confronted with
your own meanness. Your image of yourself is broken. You despise
yourself. You will hate the man who puts you to shame. This hate
is the most bitter of all, the most difficult to heal. It has the
longest memory. Shame burns. Perhaps decades later you will suddenly
remember and blush.18 |
Shame as disgrace is also unexpected. Helen Merrell
Lynd is perceptive on this aspect of shame:
Shame interrupts any unquestioning, unaware sense of oneself....
More than other emotions, shame involves a quality of the unexpected:
if in any way we feel it coming we are powerless to avert it....
Whatever part voluntary action may have in the experience of shame
is swallowed up in the sense of something that overwhelms us from
without and "takes us" unawares. We are taken by surprise, caught
off guard, or off base, caught unawares, made a fool of. It is as
if we were suddenly invaded from the rear where we cannot see, are
unprotected, and can be overpowered.19 |
Sartre speaks of shame as "an immediate shudder
which runs through me from head to foot without any discursive preparation."20
This immediacy characterizes his phenomenology of shame. For example, in
a well-known passage, Sartre describes the voyeur peeking through the keyhole:
| Moved by jealousy, curiosity,
or vice, I have just glued my ear to the door and looked through
a keyhole. I am alone.…But all of a sudden I hear footsteps in the
hall. Someone is looking at me!21 |
The effect of such an unexpected intrusion is
disorienting, sometimes to the point of being shattering. Thus, in Dostoyevsky's
Notes from Underground, the narrator is thrown violently off balance when
Liza unexpectedly appears just as he is engaged in a childish tantrum, screaming
in a petty rage at his servant Apollon:
| "Go!" I shrieked, grabbing
him by the shoulder. I felt that in another minute I would hit him.
But I did not notice that suddenly the door from the passage softly
and slowly opened at that instant and a figure came in, stopped
short, and began staring at us in amazement. I glanced, nearly died
with shame and rushed back to my room. There, clutching at my hair
with both hands, I leaned my head against the wall and stood motionless
in that position.22 |
What is the nature of this disruption? Another
consciousness has suddenly invaded the narrator's field of activity. Until
Liza's appearance, he is completely absorbed in the external world, engrossed
in his attack on his servant. Then, unexpectedly, Liza appears. Her stare
fractures his unself-conscious drama. There is now someone watching him;
he too is thrown into an awareness of himself, and that which he has become
aware of disturbs him.
Sartre, highly sensitive to this
aspect of shame, finds the effect of this disruption so radical that he
calls it an "internal hemorrhage," the "regrouping of all the objects
which people my universe."23 Even when the advent of shame
is less dramatic, there is a disruption nonetheless that manifests itself
in a sense of confusion.24 Confusion, in fact, so characteristically
accompanies disgrace-shame that the two form a biblical cliche. Thus we
hear both the Psalmist's plea, "Let all who seek my life be brought to
shame and confusion,"25 and the call for retribution, "Let
them be put to shame and confusion who rejoice at my fall…."26
The disorientation that triggers
shame always involves a reflexive movement of consciousness. What is actually
experienced is a relation of distance. In some cases the relation is interpersonal,
between the self and others who look at it; at other times the relation
occurs intrapersonally, as the self sees itself.
Sartre and Scheler have each described
this dynamic of disruption arousing self-consciousness. In their examples,
people experience shame when their immediate situation is disrupted: the
woman running naked into the street with her child in her arms from a
burning house, the nude model suddenly made self-conscious before the
artist, the man peeking through a keyhole. In these instances, the persons
concerned are initially unselfconscious, involved in, and given over to,
an external situation. They are conscious not of themselves, but of the
objects before them. But suddenly, the situation changes, the mood is
broken, and they are made acutely aware of themselves as they are at that
moment. Something happens that turns their attention to themselves in
such a way that they are not simply there, but see themselves there, and
this seeing amuses shame. Shame opens up a new level of consciousness
of the self. The undivided self in action gives way to the doubled self.
Shame is an act of self-attention.
Shame and Self-Discovery
Each of these elements of shame--disruption,
disorientation, and painful self-consciousness--manifests the relational
character of the shame experience. This relational nature of shame, in
turn, contains a revelatory capacity. In the reflexive movement of consciousness,
a part of the self is revealed to the self. Sartre has captured this quality
of shame:
| Consider for example
shame....[Its] structure is intentional; it is a shameful apprehension
of something and this something is me. I am ashamed of what I am.
Shame therefore realizes an intimate relation of myself to myself.
Through shame I have discovered an aspect of my being... Shame is
by nature recognition. I recognize that I am as the Other sees me.27 |
Because of its particular dynamics, shame has
a singular capacity to disclose the self to the self. "In contrast to all
other affects, shame is an experience of the self by the self."28
This intimate link between shame and self-discovery led Helen Merrell Lynd
to title her essay On Shame and the Search for Identity. The process of
revelation that occurs in shame is not necessarily a narrow or static one.
Through the experience of shame, identity may not only be confirmed, but
shaped, enlarged, and put into perspective.
The relational aspects of shame--the
disorientation, the unexpected, painful self-consciousness--give shame
this revelatory potential. They make self-confrontation inescapable. Normally,
the self refuses to see itself; it looks away; it hides from itself. To
know one's self is painful. There is much that, left to ourselves, we
would just as soon overlook. As long as we are left to our own devices,
we are willing to participate in much self-deception to avoid the pain
of shameful self-revelation. But in the exposure in shame before an Other
whom we cannot control or deny, we come into a confrontation with ourselves
that we might otherwise avoid. It is like seeing our lives put on a stage.
The objectification of the self in shame resists the ploys of blurred
and vague self-awareness.
Some social scientists fail to
recognize the positive elements in such expressions of being ashamed.
For many, the only thing they see is that the self confronted in shame
seems less than the self one wants to be. Shame, then, is regarded fundamentally
as a negative experience. It is perceived in terms of personal inadequacy,
failure, or shortcoming. Gerhard Piers, in his classic psychoanalytic
description of shame as a product of tension between the ego and the ego-ideal,
sees it as a response to failure and the shortcomings of the self in relation
to the ego-ideal."" This psychoanalytic formulation--shame as failure--in
turn has been widely accepted in social psychology and anthropology. It
is incorporated into Lynd's well-known work on shame, whose theme is that
shame occurs along a strong-weak continuum, and has to do with a sense
of smallness or inadequacy, a sense of not being good enough or acceptable.
In shame, we perceive the self as lacking.30
The underlying dynamic of disgrace-shame
is the fear of rejection. In psychoanalytic terminology, for the ego-ideal,
this sense of inadequacy represents the threat of disapproval and ostracism.
As Piers states, "Behind the feeling of shame stands... the fear of contempt
which, on an even deeper level of the unconscious, spells fear of abandonment."31
The bite of shame, which, may be communicated through criticism, ridicule,
scorn, abandonment, is vulnerability to the threat of rejection.32
The unconscious fear in shame is separation anxiety, the threat of loss
of love.33
Two things need to be said about
such explanations. First, they provide an explanation of the genesis and
dynamics only of being ashamed; they do not fit the sense of shame--as
can be seen by trying to explain examples of discretion-shame (Ovid or
Baroja, etc.) in terms of fear of rejection. Second, this approach fails
to direct attention to the positive component that accompanies even disgrace-shame.
In shame the object from which we are alienated is one with which we still
sustain a positive cathexis. The work of Silvan Tomkins is almost alone
in recognizing this ambivalence.
The shame response, Tomkins notes,
is "deeply ambivalent": in an "act of facial communication reduction in
which excitement or enjoyment is only incompletely reduced," the eyes
turn away from the other toward the self. This conflict is most easily
seen in young children who cover their faces before a stranger, but who
also peek through their fingers. Tomkins continues:
| In shame I wish to continue
to look and be looked at, but I also do not wish to do so. There
is some serious impediment to communication which forces consciousness
back to the face and the self.... Self-consciousness is heightened
by virtue of the unwillingness of the self to renounce the object.
In this respect it is not unlike mourning, in which I become exquisitely
aware of the self just because I will not surrender the love object
which must be surrendered.34 |
The ambivalence of shame contrasts with the univalent
affects of disgust and contempt. As Ion8 as one maintains some positive
feelings about oneself, one can be ashamed of oneself. But if one feels
only rejection, contempt and disgust will arise. Tomkins points out that
shame for the self or for another "is two-valued and therefore deeply disturbing."35
In contempt, the object--self or other--is simply rejected: in shame
one still seeks a relationship.
The underlying dynamic of shame,
then, is a positive valuation. Lincoln Steffens illustrates this in his
newspaper articles at the turn of the century on American municipal corruption.
Steffens describes his response to an attack upon one of his earlier articles:
When I returned to St. Louis and
rewrote the facts, and, in rewriting, made them just as insulting as the
truth would permit, my friends there expressed dismay over the manuscript.
The article would hurt Mr. Folk; it would hurt the cause; it would arouse
popular wrath.
| "That was what I hoped
it would do," I said. "But the indignation would break upon Folk
and reform, not on the boodlers," they said. "Wasn't it obvious,"
I asked, "that this very title, 'Shamelessness,' was aimed at pride;
that it implied a faith that there was self-respect to be touched
and shame to be moved?"36 |
The immediate awareness in shame is often the
sting of selfnegation; a more sustained look reveals an underlying core
of positive belief and self-valuation. If all respect for the self is lost,
the knowledge that the self has betrayed a friend will not arouse shame.
The person may experience self-contempt, or numbness, but shame implies
that a person cares. As Paul Pruyser observes, "Shame has the seeds of betterment
in it…. It is future-directed and lives from hope."37
Where despair rules, there is no
shame. In shame, the self may feel most keenly the pain of its own betrayal
of another. But there is more. Shame indicates that the self also still
values that other. This ambivalence is of the essence of shame. If one
stands judged and inadequate before one's better self, one still possesses
that better self; while shame may separate the self from the other, it
also points to a deeper connection. In shame, the object one is alienated
from, one also loves still.
The recognition of this positive
dimension deeply affects one's interpretation and evaluation of shame.
Both Plato and Paul Goodman, for example, see shame as intrinsic to human
existence, treat its manifestations with delicacy and respect, and perceive
its humanizing and pedagogical function. Those who agree with them recognize,
at least to some extent, this positive element in shame. In contrast,
those who regard shame as artificial, repressive, and essentially a social-control
mechanism and who are most impressed with its pathological and destructive
manifestations, focus on the negative judgment in shame and overlook the
deeper positive dimension.
|