Lessons In Destroying Personhood
A Psychoanalysis of Sending Migrants to Martha's Vineyard (Vol. 2, Issue 33)
Last Wednesday, Ron DeSantis, the governor of Florida, flew around 100 individuals, adults and children, from Texas to Martha’s Vineyard. He chartered two airplanes, using Florida taxpayers’ funds, to transport these immigrants hundreds of miles to the northeast. DeSantis transformed these individuals—each one a vibrant human subject, a person, a singular individual—into objects, things, goods, products, chattel, stuff.
Catherine Chen, the head of Polaris, a non-profit organization devoted to stopping human trafficking, identified DeSantis’ actions as just that. These persons were deceived about their final destination. In a statement she issued hours after the planes landed in the island off the Massachusetts coast, Chen noted:
Acts of calculated deception were used to trick migrants onto buses and planes. Unfortunately, this tactic is one that we know far too well in the anti-trafficking world. Migrants are regularly tricked and defrauded as part of their trafficking experience, with traffickers and exploiters taking advantage of their recent arrival, limited English proficiency, and unfamiliarity with our government systems and labor laws.
DeSantis’ using human beings as things, and then trafficking them like one might smuggle cocaine or heroin, begs we citizens of the planet Earth to consider, with renewed vigor, how we can objectify individuals, heard them into groups, or otherwise destroy their identities. Examples abound. The recent discovery of a mass grave of civilians in Izyum, Ukraine, tortured to death, provides another dramatic illustration. And, of course, industrial-scale depersonalization and genocide, like the Holocaust, offer further examples. Due to space constraints, and wishing to avoid triggering unbearable feelings of horror in readers, I limit the discussion to the DeSantis episode.
But, first, a few words about identity:
The concept of identity, meaning this person you think you are, emerges from a complex of biological propensities, early social learning, and cultural influences. The dismantling and reconstructing of self-images comprise much of what psychoanalysts do for a living. The French philosopher, Jacques Derrida (2001), coined the term bricolage (pp. 278-294) to refer to the process of identity formation. We borrow incomplete bits and pieces—some DNA here, some early childhood experiences there, subsequently subjected to influences from the mass media, the advertising industry, history, and everywhere, to form identities. Derrida defined bricolage as a combination of sources “more or less coherent or ruined.” His phrase, like usual, requires translation.
In other words, some identity-contributions combine to create a cohesive sense of self. You felt loved and supported by your parents, enjoy the love and support of friends, and found a way to identify yourself as father, husband, carpenter, etc. These are fictional narratives, yes, but they provide a sense of stability. The Buddha correctly considered the self as an illusion. Nonetheless, it is a necessary one. Many types of psychopathology emerge from deficits in self-narrations. Yes, and please don’t kill the messenger, your sense of yourself is entirely fictional. It’s made up! But you need it to structure your life, to prevent insanity.
Derrida’s consideration of identity as “ruined,” and as having splintered, distorted natures refers, in part, to normal psychology and, in part, to the abnormal. We all have dissociated, repressed, and split off parts of ourselves. No biggie. If you’re lucky, though, your self-definition enjoys a relative degree of stability. Individuals with borderline personality disorder, for example, are prone to identity dissolution. Or, those with dissociative identity disorder literally split themselves (unconsciously) into different personalities which may or may not have contact with one another.
You get the point.
Regardless of the cohesion of your self-narrative, you only choose part of what ultimately comprises it. Some, like educational achievement, occupational standing, or geographical location, involve personal agency. Other forces sculpt you as life progresses. Biology is not destiny, but it certainly creates trends in personality like basic temperament. Trauma, injuries, inheritances, etc, all affect the unfolding of identity. Once delivered into the outside environment, we are all exposed to varied, external experiences. Some enrich; others traumatize.
What do we know about these migrants as human individuals?
Most were from Venezuela. Several had traveled, part by foot and part by car or bus, through Central America, into Mexico, and finally into the United States. Their status is unclear. Some were in the process of seeking asylum here, but perhaps others entered the country illegally. They are, in many ways, just like you and me. They are yearning for a better life. They escaped poverty, chaos, and danger. They seek the capacity for love, work, and play—just like all human beings.
Important side point:
Exploring this topic brings up many complex issues. Immigration is an immense problem throughout the developed world. However, and at the same time, many nations, like Germany, need immigrants to feed their economy. Germany lacks a sufficient population of their own citizens to perform low-level jobs like laborers or farm workers. Yes, some altruism was involved in admitting some one million migrants a few years ago. At the same time, plenty of vacant jobs were filled by these new arrivals. I shall avoid the geopolitical implications of the immigration problem, focusing instead on the theme of identity and its destruction.
One use of identity-eradication is symbolic. By lumping these poor, struggling individuals into a group, calling them migrants, and shipping them off to Martha’s Vineyard, DeSantis received immense media attention. He has long complained about problems with our national immigration policies. And, certainly, many problems exist. However, he used human beings to make his point. His actions had a number of mean, insensitive, malevolent implications.
For example, Martha's Vineyard is widely known as a playground for the rich and famous. In 2020, the median cost of a home there rose to $1,035,000—an 18 percent increase from 2019. The population of the Vineyard was 14,901, according to the 2000 Census. Few jobs exist during the winter months. Therefore, these DeSantis-transported-persons are unlikely to find work there. The weather is diametrically opposite to the types of environments in which they are used to living. None of theme chose the destination. Many hardships await them.
(A wonderful irony and an illustration of human grace, many Martha’s Vineyard residents greeted the migrants with warmth and support; they offered food and shelter—even though they had no advance notice of these persons arriving on their island).
Returning to the topic of converting individuals into objects, DeSantis succeeded, arguably, in making a radical political point. The island, which indeed houses a large population of liberals, got to experience, firsthand, in real time, the immigration problem. DeSantis communicated to them:
Hey, you rich white people, how would you like it if immigrants poured into your cloistered community?
But, at what cost?
DeSantis used the currency of objectification to deliver his message.
Many definitions of evil exist, and I prefer this one:
Evil occurs when a human subject knowingly and intentionally causes suffering in another human subject.
In other words, typhoons, even though they can kill thousands, are not evil. Same with earthquakes, tornados, and other natural disasters. No person intends to create the suffering resulting from these events. In contrast, DeSantis is capable of imagining the subjective experience of these individuals he grouped into a class call migrants. He ignored their pain. He ignored his own conscience. He committed an identifiable evil.
As noted in these weekly missives, psychoanalysis is the only profession on the planet devoted to the elucidation of individual human subjectivities. It helps people discover who they are, and it facilitates them living more authentic lives. It does not prevent useful socialization or collective values. In some narcissistic individuals, the process actually increases capacities for empathy and for cooperation.
Psychoanalysis reverses human self-deception and cultural indoctrination. DeSantis needs a heavy dose, perhaps a seven-session-a-week, formal psychoanalysis. In his typically polemical style, psychoanalyst Jacques Lacan writes:
The basic thing about analysis is that people finally realize that they’ve been talking nonsense at full volume for years. (p. 71)
DeSantis needs help seeing the particularly evil type of nonsense he spouts. He not only speaks nonsense; he exudes evil. Perhaps my four decades of working in this realm rendered me unusually sensitive to him behaving in such an acutely anti-individualistic way. Karma will deal with him, as it does all of us. Meanwhile, I hope and trust this discussion of DeSantis’ evil further enlightens readers about the formation of identity, its fragility, and the ways it can be abused.
References
Derrida, J. (2001), Structure, sign, and play in the discourse of the human sciences.Writing and Difference. Trans. Alan Bass. London: Routledge.
Lacan, J. (2002). My Teaching. New York: Verso.