As I thought about the general psychology of violence and protest in our country - in relation to both my clinical work and the particular milieu of my academic life - one word seemed to capture it all: alienation. Whether in relation to the state, communities, institutions, working environments, families, spouses - even one’s sense of self - it appeared to me that South African protestors were raging against an abiding disconnect between internal desire and external reality, or a state of alienation written into both the objective conditions of life in the external world, as well as their internal, subjective experiences of that world.

No matter their theoretical orientation, when psychotherapists receive therapists with warmth and humanness, it is aimed at restoring a sense of connectedness and, by extension, faith in the human family. To have this basic intuition of one’s relatedness to other people - however tenuous - is to know on an almost visceral level what it means to be human.

Yet, when we reflect on the previous chapters, each of the core concepts - shame, envy and impasse - stand for a psychological state, or emotion, that involves a pathology of relatedness. The shameful person cannot tolerate - let alone respect - their own wound, so they inflict wounds on others. The envious person cannot accept their dependency, so they destroy the only source of goodness in their life. And the person who finds themselves at an impasse is incapable of authentic human relating unless the relationship in question is defined by a degrading form of power. It is my submission that these are the dominant emotional tones of life in South Africa.

In the world beyond therapy, however, intersubjective hope demands nourishment at two levels - first, at a socio-psychological level defined by reciprocal recognition, and second, at a social-material level involving an equitable distribution of the resources required for dignified living. This is easier said than done: what I am describing, after all, is a virtual utopia in which each of us feels recognised in our humanity, and in which our basic needs are adequately satisfied. In fact, when placing this quandary in proper historical context, one realises that the history of our species - never mind South Africa - is a history of masters and slaves.

But the basic point is this: the intersubjective cultivation of hope - in the absence of actual material prospects - amounts to little more than another cheap kumbaya moment for the masses. Hope cannot exist within a psychological matrix of shame, envy and impasse while a material base marked by rampant inequality remains locked in place. As for the observable correlates of everyday violence, ressentiment-driven value delusions and alienated consumerism, these should remind us that nothing less than our shared humanity is at stake.

To foster an intersubjective milieu that both recognises and honours the inherent sociality of human beings is no simple feat, especially in violent societies where projection and withdrawal are the common psychological responses to perceptions of threat. Add to this mix the phenomenology of alienation - and a difficult task becomes a seemingly insurmountable one. Psychoanalyst Nina Coltart had something interesting to say about this, namely, the person who is interested only in getting better: “Psychoanalytical therapy has nothing to offer a patient who only wishes to be relieved of his suffering.