A Humanistic Understanding of Anger

Humanist, Jan, 1999 by Bertram Rothschild

In 1971, that grand old man of psychology, Albert Ellis, was named Humanist of the Year by the American Humanist Association--and he well deserved it. Yet, I dare say that not many readers know his thinking. This essay attempts to provide some understanding of his ideas about emotions, with some emphasis on anger. It will surprise, perhaps dismay, some, but it is humanistic to the core.

One of the great struggles through recorded history--particularly in ethical, moral, and religious writings--was how to reconcile emotion and reason. The assumption was--and is--that emotions are separate from ideas, that they arise in some mysterious fashion, often against the will of the emoter. In early psychology, many believed in a tripartite model of mental experience: cognition (ideas, rules for behavior, perceptions), affection (emotions, feelings, passions), and conation (purpose, desires, goals). These were the irreducible elements of mind and, because they were separate, the possibility of harmonizing them was almost nil, or at least required considerable time and effort. Most psychotherapies were based on this model but not, among some others, on rational-emotive behavior therapy (REBT), created by Ellis.

To be humanists is to accept responsibility for our emotions and behaviors and not accuse others--whether human or supernatural--for our reactions. Yet, we all struggle with how to understand our emotions and how to fit them into our lives. There is an assumption that emotions, particularly strong ones, have some merit and that a life without emotion is less full, empty in some significant way. That, of course, makes sense, though the ancient Stoics were very much leery of how emotions can lead us into absurdity.

For example, we all espouse love, yet think how frequently love has wrecked lives. Think of the stupidities in which you (or your friends or loved ones) have engaged in the name of love. After the emotional storm, think of the regret you felt at how you damaged your life. Society's strong moral prohibition against promiscuity and divorce, after all, comes down to the protection of marriage against intemperate love that leads life partners astray. We are all susceptible. This is not an argument against divorce but against mindlessness.

The word emotion has too much excess meaning; therefore, in this essay I will use the term feeling. This change is significant because it places the locus of action in our bodies, whereas emotion connotes a mental event. An emotion is nothing more than how our body feels when it is aroused. We feel our body in a state of arousal and say we have feelings about something. Most of the time we tie the experience to some event--past, present, potential future, or even fantasized (God loves me; I was stolen from wealthy parents; I could have been a contender).

A reasonable rule of thumb is thus: as the intensity of an emotion goes up, the capacity for intelligent thinking goes down. Think back to your idiotic behaviors. I bet they were mostly caused by an excess of emotion that made clear thinking impossible. You loved the wrong person; you feared taking steps that might have bettered your life; you became angry and lashed out to harm someone, often someone you love.

Anger is a life-saving emotion--or, at least, evolution "designed" it to be so. In a dangerous environment, it is necessary to be able to stop or destroy the danger. When we feel angry, we mean that we have perceived a threat and plan to do something about it before it does us in. Our bodies prepare for violent behavior. All of this occurs with the speed of thought, most often out of awareness. Our cognitions, internal or external, mobilize our bodies to respond in some destructive way. We kill the saber-toothed tiger and feel damn glad afterward, both because of the excess of adrenaline and the sweet reinforcement we get when gazing at its mangled body.

That is appropriate. Danger needed to be thwarted lest the human animal not survive. But is anger appropriate in our life-styles? Think about how frequently you have been angry. I don't mean only verbally or physically abusive but those many times you had the feeling called anger but kept yourself restrained. Clearly, you have had that feeling multitudes of times compared to the times you actually behaved in angry ways. But back to the question: is anger appropriate in our life-styles? The thrust of this essay is that, except for rare instances, it is not.

If we start from the proposition that we evolved into creatures who fought to survive (running away is another essay), the question arises: how frequently has your survival been the issue when you became angry. Hardly ever. Compared to the number of times you had the feeling of anger, the number of times you have faced a survival issue is miniscule and for many nonexistent. Do you get it? You, I, everyone reacts to certain kinds of social situations as if we faced physical danger, but we did not.

The feeling called anger then is mostly inappropriate. We overwhelmingly apply it to situations that we do not like or of which we disapprove. If you consider the destructive consequences--always to one's body, frequently to loved ones or to social institutions--the cost/benefit ratio is skewed in the wrong direction. Yet, many people--perhaps most--will justify their anger as if implacable, external forces had imposed it on them. Or they will argue that, given the circumstances, the anger made sense.