In some recent posts, I’ve gone in depth about my thoughts on the forms of mass projection that our society engages in, so I felt it would be useful to set aside some time to write about what psychological projection is and how it manifests. “Projection” is one of the most common psychological terms used by laypeople, and for good reason; it’s also a very frequent psychological phenomenon. However, projection may not always be what you think it is. In this article I will explain how the term is sometimes misunderstood and how it could be interpreted to apply to a vast range of complex and profound psychological functions.

To start, it’s important to acknowledge that “projection” has had different definitions almost from the get-go depending on the practitioner you ask. Although Sigmund Freud may not have been the first person to use the term “projection” in the psychological sense, he was the most influential and earliest thinker to coin the phrase and put it to good use. To Freud, projection is a process by which an individual who does not want to acknowledge something repellant about themselves acts as if another person is embodying that behavior. This is apparent in the unfaithful spouse who is chronically vigilant to their own partner’s activities, the arguing person who yells at you that YOU are the one that’s angry, and many prejudicial beliefs about “others” that likely apply more to the labeling group than the labeled. It’s important to understand that Freud’s view of projection goes back to his perception of the nature of the unconscious mind. Freud said that the unconscious mind is a powerful force in the human psyche, but that it was solely used as a repository for unwanted feelings and urges, mostly sexual. To Freud, the unconscious mind is just a storehouse for ugly things that people don’t want to face about themselves and the world, and because of this understanding, Freudian projection is solely about trying to foist off that unwanted content onto others. However, Carl Jung, a long-time student of Freud’s, eventually broke with him over their disagreement about how the unconscious mind worked. To Jung, repressed emotions and unwanted urges do make up some of the unconscious mind, but he didn’t believe that was all there was to it. To Jung, the unconscious mind is a force much more powerful and far-reaching than the conscious; one that holds resonant universal images that can provide inspiration and vision as well as possession and torment. And since Jung sees the unconscious mind this way, his definition of psychological projection is of course different. To Jung, when an individual acts as if a part of their inner psyche is embodied in a source outside of themselves, it is not always because of their own repressed tendencies. It can also be a way of communing with powers locked within the human mind that are not amenable to reason or logic. Jung often spoke of projection in terms of mythology, art, and religion. To Jung, projection is the process by which we get fairy tales, sacred literature, and every significant piece of art ever made. If there were nothing present in the unconscious mind to be made visible by projection, he might argue, we wouldn’t have art, literature, or even dreams.

So what is the more everyday, applicable significance of psychological projection? What does it have to do with day to day life? Both Freud and Jung would argue that it is active in most, if not all, of our intimate and formal interactions with other human beings. It isn’t possible for us to completely and fully know another person, so our minds have to fill in the gaps to create working models for what other people are “like.” And the content we use to fill in those gaps comes from the unconscious mind.

For all his genius and for all his ideological contributions to the world, Freud still defined falling in love as a narcissistic ego projection. He asks: "Isn't what we mean by 'falling in love' a kind of sickness and craziness, an illusion, a blindness to what the loved person is really like?" Not only is this possibly the least romantic intepretation of love, it’s also neurotically color-blind as a description of the emotional process that fuels the deepest acts of care and compassionate in human history. And yet on another level, I don’t disagree with Freud. I think he’s essentially right that falling in love is a process of reciprocal projection. But he only conveys the act of projection as something aberrant, delusional, and avoidant rather than the more robust Jungian interpretation - that projection is a process by which the individual human being forms a relationship with their unconscious minds; that projection is the vast majority of what we mean by the terms “religion” and “spirituality.” While Freud would reduce spirituality to a neurosis, I have to say I side with Jung on viewing it as a more complex and not innately dysfunctional phenomenon.

I remember having a perception when I first entered graduate school that transference (the projection of feelings onto the therapist by the client) and counter-transference (the projection of feelings by the therapist onto the client) were major disruptions to the therapeutic process and things to be avoided as much as possible. I’ve since come to a deeper understanding of the role of projection in human society. Not only are transference and counter-transference not hindrances to therapy, they may describe essentially what therapy is. Our ability to project onto others is the same process as “getting to know” someone. It’s important to be aware of what we project on others, as not being conscious of this process can lead us down some very destructive paths, but it isn’t “bad” in and of itself to project. In fact, it can be seen as a beautiful testament to the human mind that we are able to see near-divine virtue and beauty in others, because this in turn proves that there is virtue and beauty within ourselves.

I recently came across a new term for something I’ve seen in session again and again but didn’t have the words to really identify: Toxic positivity. Toxic positivity is the act of being so hyper-focused on the bright side that you can’t see anything else. It’s denial disguised as optimism. People who engage in toxic positivity ignore the dark side of life and of themselves, which, as I explained in my post on The Shadow, leads to a host of problems.

Older generations may blame social media for inciting a culture of toxic positivity due to its ability to create and exhibit a shallow narrative of a perfectly happy life, but I suspect we all also know people of an older generation who have clung to an impossibly sunny view of the world for decades. Despite being a new term, this isn’t a new phenomenon.

Renee Magritte, Polar Light — Renee Magritte, *Polar Light*

Toxic positivity relies on a worldview that is oddly religious in tone. To believe that “everything is going to be okay” or “everything happens for a reason,” one has to trust that some Higher Power is arranging or has arranged the world ideally, or at least in a manner deigned to please the believer. Whether or not the individual engaging in toxic positivity is literally religious or not is beside the point; by engaging in this mindset they are putting stock in a near-supernatural power in an unhealthy way. And as such, we can see toxic positivity as the antithesis of true and healthy spirituality. While true spirituality rests on a trust in a connection to something greater than ourselves, toxic positivity pretends that difficult and destructive acts are acceptable and excusable. It insidiously uses the language of acceptance while avoiding any kind of uncomfortable reckoning with the darkness of the world.

No religion has a monopoly on toxic positivity. It can be applied to any existing belief system or lack thereof. However, toxic positivity cannot coexist with a healthy spirituality. If one has a belief that everything in the world is fine as it is, then the great work of humanity ceases. There’s simply nothing worthwhile for us to do if we can’t improve the situation or help ease the suffering of others. If someone comes to believe that a universal law like karma, divine judgment, or the afterlife will even the moral odds for humanity sometime in the future, they may begin to use this as justification for a great many transgressions and injustices in the here and now. “Kill them all and let God sort them out” isn’t just a kitschy action movie line; it was derived from a saying of Arnaud Amaury, a medieval abbot who was instrumental in the genocide of a religious group in Southern France during The Albigensian Crusade. The kind of false acceptance that toxic positivity engenders rationalizes and excuses destructive acts rather than trying to accept them for what they are.

But what of true faith in the goodness of the world? What of the blissfully half-closed eyes of a Buddha? What of the equanimity of Julian of Norwich’s statement that “all shall be well, all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well”?

This is a different sort of outlook than toxic positivity, one based on the transformative power of love. Love being, itself, the most intense form of acceptance. Toxic positivity doesn’t come from a place of love because it seeks to avoid acceptance of the world around us as it is. True love doesn’t airbrush the blemishes away, but embraces the person despite them. This is obviously not as simple of a process as it seems. What does it mean to apply the transformative power of love to hideous acts of violence, racism, ignorance, and abuse? Maybe rather than forcing oneself to believe in the “divine plan” of the abuse, we look to the divinity dwelling in those that suffer. It’s a difficult thing to express and something of a tightrope to walk at times, but it is possible to practice a radical acceptance of the dark parts of life while still believing in an underlying and ultimate goodness. This kind of acceptance of underlying goodness reflects a deep truth of which toxic positivity is only a pale imitation.

One of the simplest and most useful pieces of advice they give you in grad school is to never tell a client “it’s going to be okay.” It’s not always going to be okay, and the job of a therapist isn’t to provide unconditional comfort, but to encourage unconditional acceptance. Now more than ever given our political climate, it is imperative that we learn to recognize, discuss, and work with some very ugly truths; both personal and societal. Only by getting our hands dirty and dealing with the stark realities of abuse and oppression can we reach a place of true and unbiased happiness. Once we engage authentically in this process, we experience the mysterious reality that, underneath it all, there is something good.