The End of the World: A Case History in 2 Parts

Every so often, you’ll see someone on the street proclaiming that the end of the world is near. This “knowledge” has been communicated to him from a Greater or Higher Power and he is merely the herald of this revelation. And given that this vision of his has its source in this greater agency, he feels compelled to attempt to find an audience for its message. Maybe if someone else would hear or understand the message, he wouldn’t feel so alone and entirely overwhelmed and helpless. Even the popular press eagerly reports on groups predicting the end of the world based on their reading of Nostradamus, the Bible, or some other ancient and authoritative source.

In a very real sense, interests in such apocalyptic predictions come naturally to us. While no other animal imagines the future, nor buries its dead, nor is born so entirely helpless and dependent, we have operated in this way for the last 150,000 years. So the “world” that we live in, or fear ending, is the world depicted in 10,000 year old rock art in Africa, the 20,000 year old paintings deep in the caves of Lascaux, France, sung in ancient chants and modern songs, spoken in poems, stories and myths for thousands of years: it is a world held together in and through Meaning.

About 15 years ago, I received a call from a successful local businessman about his 14-year-old son; let’s call him Robert. He said it was urgent that I see his son in treatment, but that he needed to come in first to explain to me the timing of his call and sense of urgency. Here’s what the father told me:

His son had been attending an exclusive, private school. He appeared to be quite intelligent, athletic and socially well adjusted. The week before, Robert had “anonymously” placed a call to the front office of his school warning that explosives had been planted throughout the school and would detonate soon. The police and fire department were quickly called and the school was evacuated. After a thorough search, it was determined that the call was a hoax. Robert had made the call from the phone in the cafeteria of the school and didn’t even bother to hide what he was doing from his few friends. While his friends decided not to turn him in, already knowing that no bombs had been planted, the school had determined the location of the call and discretely positioned an administrator to monitor any use of the phone. Sure enough, the following Monday, Robert picked up the same phone and made the same threats about explosives in the school to the front office. The police were called and he was taken into custody.

Robert had no history of violence, nor had he been a discipline problem at the school. In fact, he was an excellent student and most of his teachers found him to be thoughtful and engaging in and out of class. Nevertheless, it was decided that he would be expelled from school, but that no charges would be brought if the family agreed to arrange a psychological assessment followed by the recommended treatment. After listening to this account by the father, and hearing a bit about the Robert’s and the family’s history, I agreed to see him the next day.

Robert showed up on time and by himself for the first visit. He was properly dressed, groomed, tall and athletic-looking. His facial expression was flat. This was significant. One would imagine, given his recent conduct and expulsion, that he would show signs of fear, anxiety, anger, mistrust, even suspiciousness. He’d been arrested and expelled. Now he was meeting some doctor who likely only knew of his recent problems and would probably greatly influence what happened to him next. While I was certain that his father had told him that I could be of some help, what form this might take could not have been clear (even to me at that moment) and, obviously, he was going to be “examined” and some assessment made of his psychological functioning. Yet he was expressionless.

There are actually circumstances in everyday life in which otherwise emotionally engaged individuals exhibit this flatness of expression. Their look expresses their resignation to their current position. So the normal fluctuation of emotion, riding along with their expectations and wishes, is put aside as a potential source of frustration when nothing can be acted on as long as they’re mired in their current situation.

In recent history, the most extreme example we have of this hopeless, helpless, expressionless state is found in pictures of the victims in the concentration camps of the Holocaust. All of the meaningful and meaning-giving relations of everyday living have been destroyed; an expressionless response is all that remains.

With Robert’s lack of expression, I realized that any attempt on my part to establish rapport by light conversation or polite formalities would likely be perceived as insulting or foolish. So I immediately asked why he made the phone calls and why he made sure that he would be caught. He made eye contact, trying to determine whether I was a person able to comprehend his answer, not just some silly, irrelevant person merely doing his job, or, even worse, some truly foolish individual eager to “help” him. I must’ve passed muster. He answered: “I was trying to teach them; they don’t understand.” From his first response, I knew he was ready to talk.

END PART 1

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Dr. Friedman is a psychologist in private practice in Chicago and a faculty member at the Northwestern University Medical School. He has published in psychoanalytic journals around the world, contributed to a number of psychoanalytic anthologies and his book, The Origins of the Self and Identity, has been translated into an Italian edition as well. He has lectured to professional and lay audiences around the country for over 20 years and his seminar is approaching its 30th year.