The article is an extended and revised version of the one originally published in Vesmír, which was based on an interview that Vlado gave to Psychologie.cz.
In recent decades, we have observed how high politics and society are being increasingly influenced by low motives and emotional drives such as envy, frustration, manipulation, deception, or revenge. The division of society has intensified, accompanied by aggression and the entrenchment of one-sided positions. In the United States in particular, we are witnessing a rise in irrational attitudes, conspiratorial thinking, and accompanying attacks on pluralism, minorities, those who hold differing opinions and “others.”
Alchemical Nigredo
A decade before Donald Trump’s emergence on the political scene, those impulses had begun to be heard in American society. Psychologically, we might view this as an emergence of the “narcissistic archetype.” Possession by this archetype manifests in the ego as self-absorbed, self-centered focus, where “mine” is presented as universal, righteous, correct, and perfect. Thus, a sense of entitlement arises to impose this ideal upon others, even at the cost of one-sidedness, control, or cruelty. Mythical Narcissus rejected Echo’s love and remained enchanted by his own reflection. This indicates an emotional detachment, splitting off the psychic poles of thinking and feeling—that is, a loss of contact with the soul, the heart—typically accompanied by a loss of compassion, intuition, perspective, and understanding of higher motives. Things that were previously subjected to moral scrutiny are now – under the new paradigm – reconsidered as a new value; bold acts are no longer feared—because now it is done in the name of truth. The new truth! But where is the “old” truth? It is now pushed away by the complex that got constellated. And Trump emerged as a major object of the collective projection of this complex within the American psyche. As the chosen Über-Narcissus, he legitimized shadow emotions—rage, entitlement, xenophobia—emotions that had previously been repressed under the weight of collective scrutiny. Thus, he allowed the collective shadow to manifest openly, without burdening shame.
This opened the door to authoritarian dynamics and narcissistic manipulation. When society becomes psychically fragmented—when people lose both internal and external cohesion—they often seek a dominant figure to restore a sense of order: someone emotionally expressive, seemingly confident and strong. As a rule manipulators and narcissists then contain the chaos during turbulent times and offer temporary relief by directing the collective shadow outward—by way of scapegoating towards the state, immigrants, minorities… Anyone perceived as different. The forms of oppression in a family controlled by a narcissist are quite similar to those by which a totalitarian state controls its citizens.
The many afflictions that ache us in a rapidly changing world are like splinters of traumas that we do not have time to process. For many, these create uncertainty, fragility that weakens the power of the ego-consciousness, consequently causing emotional and moral regression in society. We can think of an example of the unmet needs of a child who cannot express them by words and enacts them through anger, projection, or magical thinking. In the core there lie legitimate needs for safety, belonging, justice, and transformation—but without conscious reflection, these needs emerge in distorted, primal forms.
Moreover, trauma evokes archetypal fantasies that exist outside of time and space. They manifest unconsciously and often appear as a longing for the lost paradise—for a golden age. Slogans such as “Make America Great Again” are a reflection of this nostalgia; they really are distractions, and represent a soothing psychological defense against a painful present. Trump inspires people to dream on a grand scale, blurring the line between what is possible and impossible. Even ambitions that are unattainable or rooted in darker impulses now appear not only imaginable but, in many cases, socially permitted.
As a nation, speaking metaphorically, the United States is undergoing an alchemical phase of nigredo—a dark and seemingly disorienting phase of decay. Fixed concepts that the ego once adhered to in order to navigate reality are disintegrating; everything is changing and nothing is stable. The reality as ego perceives it is at the same time Maya—an illusion, sustained by collective hypnosis that spins the truth of the masses. Without genuine, conscious confrontation with darkness—and without sincerely suffering through the obsolete parts of ourselves—transformation is not possible. In this phase, old inner structures must be dismantled, and their fragments reconnected and rebuilt to allow new paths for life-giving energy. The search for new pathways and the creation of new attitudes is always painful; suffering must be integrated, not bypassed through scapegoating, conspiracy fantasies, or new “isms” that would only further generate another collective illusions. Unconscious contents would keep projecting and finding new objects and create sophisticated escape routes from reality, thereby replaying the escape game.
In projection, Trump initially appears as a kind of sage, savior and warrior—a mythological figure upon which ideals could be projected including split-off emotions and secret fantasies. Over time, however, he becomes a mirror that reflects it all back to society, including not-so-ideal aspects. This is the archetypal process through which consciousness evolves: the first stage is idealization, wherein magical expectations are attributed to the redeemer; the second stage is disillusionment, when the unwanted shadow comes on the scene and the projections collapse, allowing reality to be confronted and reflected upon. If projections are consciously withdrawn, there is potential for new awareness. If not, they simply transfer onto the next fantasy image. Ego-consciousness eventually has to confront how to hold contradictions—“bad” and “good” psychic actors—together. It appears that Trump’s willingness to declassify Epstein files might be one of these tipping points that forces the position of his followers to change. The image of innocent young girls simply holds too much innocence, too much emotional potential, and it becomes very difficult to justify their abuse, even by rather sophisticated maneuvers.
Trump’s role embodies the archetype of the Trickster—marked by what we can view as narcissistic traits—a figure who breaches taboos and norms, criticizes, disrupts, laughs at, mocks, and exposes hidden hypocrisies, but without offering any actual solutions. The Trickster stirs the smoldering ember of psychic shadow, but if there is no strong enough container for conscious confrontation, the fire only spreads and chaos grows.
We also see elements of the Wounded King here—when his personal woundedness reflects the sickness of the “land.” To use the language of alchemy, the king’s suffering must eventually be transformed in the Athanor. Trump is unlikely to change on a personal level, but through him, the collective shadow has been exposed and brought under collective scrutiny. If society remains locked in an “us versus them” dynamic—viewing him solely as villain or redeemer—the opposites will stay split and remain in conflict. But if we take the mirror in hand and clearly face what we have pushed away within ourselves, the soul work can begin.
Therefore, I believe that although current societal developments bring significant risks, at the same time it also opens us up to a deep opportunity for transformation. Trump, as a cultural phenomenon, uncovers a psychic map full of swamplands we all, as collective inhabit. Healing requires not only fighting outer battles but undertaking a quest for slow, tedious inner work—the vulnerable task of mourning illusions, surviving disillusionment, and assuming responsibility for the world we inhabit, sharing with all forms of existence.
Ultimately—and most likely—Trump’s presidency will expose an old truth: that the task is not to find another redeemer, but to redeem ourselves.
The nigredo, as described in alchemy, is a phase of dissolution—a darkness of the soul that naturally precedes transformation. The question is whether society can make use of this descent and emerge into a stage of renewal. Will those who now admire authoritarian rulers like Putin one day choose leaders who embody emotional maturity and human values? Psychology offers insight, for society ultimately reflects the inner attitudes of individuals.
Narcissistic splitting is a form of regression into a state where the ego feels omnipotent and superior to all it perceives. But this sense of power is deceptive, as it remains disconnected from reality. It reflects a way of being in disharmony with the world—a stance that cannot be sustained over time. It contradicts the natural evolution of consciousness, whose aim is integration: a credible and grounded connection to the world. The psyche—what Kalshed calls the “self-care system”—continually attempts to restore this harmony, often by constructing provisional fantasy images (ideologies, -isms) that mask what has been lost. Yet beneath these images, an erosion begins to take shape—and eventually, the inner rupture becomes visible externally.
Of course, no one can predict how deep the rupture must be before society begins to reckon with the consequences of its own shadow. It wouldn’t be the first time. In therapy, we often observe the same pattern: a person’s delusional stance grows so misaligned with reality until something gives in—a crisis, confrontation, or even a breakdown. Drunk driving, a heart attack, a divorce… Eventually, the family stops tolerating gaslighting, denial and manipulation. The narcissistic bubble bursts. And only then, maybe for the first time, must real problems be faced with humility and honesty.
In his work Aurora Consurgens (The Rising Dawn), Thomas Aquinas presents the soul as a wounded bride longing to unite with her beloved—the divine Bridegroom. A soul that yearns to merge with matter. The birth of consciousness is preceded by chaos and pain.
In the Fisher King legend, the king suffers a mysterious wound in his groin—rendering him unable to lead or move. His land turns barren, dry, and without life. All he can do is go fishing, to sit by the river and wait for the catch.
Knights from far and wide seek the Holy Grail, which could heal both the king and his kingdom. Only one—Parsifal, the pure-hearted knight—matures over time and finally asks the essential question: “What ails you, my king?” That question breaks the curse, heals the king, and revives the land. Parsifal dares to face what is truly wounded. He approaches the king not as a warrior, but as a therapist.
Many individuals may not be able to ask this question of themselves, but society creates institutions that hold space for such reflection. The longing for freedom—which is ultimately a spiritual longing for wholeness—cannot be fooled or permanently suppressed. It stems from a deep yearning for truth! The truth that far transcends the individual ego, illusion of the state, and the collective.
The Axiom of Psychology
The rise of self-serving, manipulative politics—characterized by control, deception, and the exploitation of fear—is not uniquely American but a global phenomenon. In today’s interconnected world, few major shifts remain confined to one region. This prompts a pressing question: why is this happening now? History may offer some perspective. What typically precedes the fall of empires or the outbreak of global conflicts? The narcissistic paradigm often takes root in the wake of collapsed harmony—driven by economic decline, social inequality, the destabilization of institutions, and the erosion of national and cultural confidence.
A narcissistic leader—typically a spokesman for low motives—offers simplistic solutions that resonate with those who feel powerless. When people experience humiliation—economic, social, or cultural—they instinctively gravitate toward figures who appear bold, self-assured, and immune to doubt. Such a leader presents an idealized, and therefore incomplete, image of who they long to become in times of vulnerability.
We can view this phenomenon from at least three angles. First, as causa efficiens—the immediate source of the problem. Among the contemporary forces with destabilizing effects are global climate change, the relentless pace of social transformation accelerated by social media, and, most recently, the disruptive impact of artificial intelligence.
Second, as causa praesens—that what mediates and enlivens this phenomenon in the present. Simply put: here and now. In clinical practice, I see many clients struggling with anxiety, mood disturbances, or depression, often lacking sufficient inner insight or connection to the present moment. This absence of self-awareness feeds projection, interpersonal conflicts, conspiratorial thinking, and other destructive patterns. When emotions remain disconnected—dissociated—from ego-consciousness, they surface in their raw, “shadow” forms as fear, rage, or shame.
Thirdly, causa finalis—and that is a prospective, teleological aim. The psyche is endowed with a self-regulating drive, an instinctive force that works towards reconciling opposites and restoring harmony. Just as the physical body produces immune defenses, the psychic body creates symbolic compensations in forms of images. Jung postulated the psychological axiom stating that when opposites are torn apart—when people can no longer agree even on the most fundamental matters—the unconscious archetypal contents gets activated and emerge into the world through acts and events, as a rule throughout forms of narcissistic aggression; thus the struggle for dominance ensues.
The alchemical nigredo is, in fact, a noble Buddhist truth: there is suffering—and no psychological maneuver can bypass it. It returns the irrational forces back to the realm of the archetypes, while at the same time giving rise to a new form of rationality.
Ignorance or Stupidity?
Buddhism teaches that avidyā, or ignorance, is the root of all suffering. This ignorance is not mere lack of information, but essentially misunderstanding of reality itself. Stupidity is an inherent part of human nature, the opposite of wisdom, and thus also an archetype. Stupidity is a force that places obstacles to our path, causing harm both to ourselves and to others without any apparent benefit. We all know it well—from our own experience and from observing those around us. Carl Gustav Jung warned, even before the Germans unleashed a catastrophic war in Europe, that stupidity is far more dangerous than intelligence—primarily because everyone understands stupidity, while wisdom is grasped by only a few. Stupidity is immune to wisdom and logic, and at the same time susceptible or indifferent to evil. Dietrich Bonhoeffer considered it worse than evil itself, because it is elusive, and even its bearer does not understand it. Stupidity, in essence, is the incapacity to perceive the consequences of one’s own actions. The Buddha likened it to blindness.
From the perspective of depth psychology, stupidity is essentially unconsciousness. The ego initially has no insightful knowledge of its own origins, but through the process of individuation, it can begin to recognize its own blindness. Consciousness begins as perception, then moves into projection, and then into discrimination—a form of relationship—and from there it can be developed into the integrative capacity of higher consciousness, the unification of opposites (coniunctio oppositorum).
For this, a reflective observer is required—one who can observe the experiencer, the projector and the projected. Foolishness lacks this capacity. For the foolish, things simply “happen.” They fail to recognize the common denominator—their own self in relation to the higher Self. Fate, therefore, is nothing more than the consequence of an unconscious being.
From the Jungian perspective, stupidity is the inability of inner dialogue with oneself. It’s the loss of connection with one’s own unconscious. Animals are intelligent because they are guided by instinct—but not consciously, since consciousness also presupposes a subject, a self-reflection. A human being can lose the ability to listen to instinct—and then become lost in the bundle of the world’s intertwined demands. It is the dialogue with one’s own soul that heals stupidity.
In many fairy tales, it is the fool or the naïve young man or a woman who first sets out on the heroic journey. Hero finds himself in a world that compels him to respond, later to experience, then to reflect, and ultimately to perform the heroic deed that leads to transformation of the entire kingdom. What is open to the new is also capable of being transformed. Individuation is the path toward wisdom, yet foolishness is its inseparable part.
In the Christian myth, the first humans sinned because they listened to the serpent’s lure without much reflection. Foolishness, therefore, is an archetypal process—spiritually programmed into human existence. The ego must first separate itself from its source so that, through its clash with reality, it may come to recognize its own foolishness. Many scientific errors, in the end, have brought forth re-evaluation and subsequent progress.
Today, foolishness is amplified by modern forces—AI, algorithms, emotional manipulation through social media, and the like. Foolishness is no longer merely passive; it is cultivated, monetized, and exploited as a tool. As Yuval Harari notes, foolishness is cheap, while wisdom requires great effort and cost.
Without a culture of self-reflection—one that integrates critical analysis and the employment of feeling-consideration—ignorance proliferates throughout society and takes on a life of its own, spreading through social networks and their algorithms. It is important to recognize that many of the reasons behind the election of dictators arise from the electorate’s legitimate, even fundamental, needs. These are not deliberately intended to harm others; rather, in their narrow rationality, they fail to perceive the larger web of interconnection that underlies both humanity and the cosmos. Conflict, therefore, is but a symptom of an inner misunderstanding. The narcissistic leader is merely a transient manifestation on the journey from the ego to the Self.
Opus Contra Naturam
Narcissistic leaders, who instinctively pursue dictatorial ambitions, hold a peculiar fascination for us. They projectively relieve us of our own doubt, feelings of inferiority, shame, and the quietly harbored whispers of our shadows. In this way, our relationship to ignorance— or rather, to stupidity— is deeply rooted in our evolutionary history, where sameness and tribal cohesion once ensured survival. It was meant to protect us from the “other,” yet at times it leaves us defenseless against the very consequences it unwittingly creates.
For millions of years, human society evolved in small groups where loyalty and identity were paramount, serving as the very principles of cohesion and survival. Unconscious identity (participation mystique), an undifferentiated hierarchy of priorities, and shared goals formed the basis of clan cohesion. A leader who could secure a common focus effectively ensured the survival of the group. Such a group functioned like a single organism, sustained by the leader’s control, which eliminated differences that might threaten its integrity. Fear and the numinous experiences of ecstasy born of identification were the primary emotions driving conformity. Imagination and mythopoetic creativity served precisely this purpose.
Only recently—around 70,000 years ago, during the cognitive revolution—humans began to develop capacities for symbolic thinking, complex language, willful decision-making, and moral reasoning. Rational principles started reshaping mass organization. The seed of the individual self took root. Instinct met its counterpart in the “other.” And just as beautiful roses grow from manure, the psyche found new paths—setting out on the risky experiment of individuality. Along with duality and doubt came the shadow of ignorance. The “other” was no longer merely a threat—it became a mirror, a source of conflict and creativity. And precisely from this tension, a new, third thing emerges.
Jung teaches that individuation is an opus contra naturam—a work against the natural instinctual nature of humans, a process that transcends nature while simultaneously containing it. Individuation can bring forth something unique, something that has never existed before. The conscious individual Self, as it begins to emerge, grants the organism of the masses not only self-awareness but also the capacity for transformation. This transition from unconscious unity to conscious individuation is nothing less than the miracle of a new paradigm.
Yes, stress, trauma, and problems threatening an individual’s survival automatically trigger a return to a mass mode of operation, to unconscious unity and attachment to leaders—but these states endure only until they collapse under the weight of their own unsustainability and transience. It is a phase that may seem cruel and helpless, yet it paves the way for the creation of new, creative solutions. How could we ever know that something must change without a mirror? Sometimes, that mirror is Icarus’s fall. What insight does not transform will, in time, be resolved by natural selection.
Democracy is an expression of yearning for values, a quest for ideals of fairness and equality where every human being deserves a rightful place. It is, at its core, an experiment where nothing is guaranteed. It is not blind faith that conscious effort alone can give rise to greater freedom, but a certainty rooted in the experience of all that humanity has redeemed countless times through sweat and blood. It is hope and a driving force for progress. I believe it springs from the very soul, like living water that gives meaning to our lives.
The Future of Consciousness
Consciousness, inseparably bound with meaning, is an exceedingly rare—if not entirely unique—phenomenon in the universe. Despite human progress, it remains an open question whether this precious light could one day be extinguished. Progress is no more guaranteed than regression.
Canadian biologist Peter Watts wrote an intriguing sci-fi novel, Blindsight (credit Jan Majer, Psychologie.cz). In it, humanity makes contact with an intelligent alien being. It understands our language, responds, and learns—yet it lacks something we take for granted as an essential part of intelligence: consciousness. It has no “I.” It does not think in the first person. It is like a camera that records an image but does not see. And still, it acts—and perhaps precisely because of this, it acts more effectively than humans. Astrobiologists and AI experts take this possibility seriously. The legitimate question arises: what if consciousness is not necessary for the development of intelligent life?
Many ask whether love, empathy, fear, conscience, and compassion will one day be recognized as expressions of a higher stage of human evolution—or dismissed as evolutionary baggage that humanity will eventually shed. This is, of course, a question without a definitive answer—unless we assume the existence of a supra-individual source of consciousness that exists “beyond” the individual self. Jung’s philosophy, reaching into metaphysics, addresses this theme precisely because it touches the domain of religion.
Consciousness, in its fundamental essence, arose in relation to the body and the physical environment. Our senses perceive the shape, taste, color, and sound of the world in which we evolved. The voice of a protective father, the taste of mother’s milk, or the scent of a predator—all of these are signals that determine our relationship to reality and our ability to survive within it. Our body perceives, feels safety, or reacts to pain and life-threatening factors. From the body and the center of the self arise fear, joy, and other emotions rooted in the experience of material existence. Human consciousness is a unique experience of reality through matter, and at the same time, it offers a glimpse into the universe of the psyche—connected to the body in ways still incomprehensible.
Religion, at its core, is an attempt to gain insight into a “mind” that transcends individuality. Jung called it the collective unconscious. The soul of the world—anima mundi—may be an intelligence that existed long before individual consciousness emerged. It is this consciousness that has found a mirror in the human being, allowing it both to reflect itself and to evolve higher forms such as compassion, love, and awe, as Jung describes in Answer to Job. Does humanity hold a unique role in the discovery and expansion of the universe’s consciousness? Is the universe conscious a priori?
Given the limits of our subjectivity, we are left with no choice but to postulate a distinction between consciousness and intelligence. In our interactions with others, we unconsciously rely on a theory of mind—we assume consciousness in others and project our own experience onto them. But this approach grows increasingly problematic in the age of artificial intelligence. When engaging with animals, extraterrestrials, or intelligent machines, we must rely solely on intelligence as an “output”—the result of intelligent activity that we interpret through the lens of our own consciousness. A computer may read millions of pages per second and communicate seamlessly with another machine, but it becomes conscious only when there is someone who “knows” about this process.
Similarly, trees—connected through underground mycorrhizal networks (the so-called “wood wide web”) that transmit water, nutrients, and warning signals—appear to act intelligently. Yet this intelligence is visible to us only because we perceive it through our own observing intelligence. Slime molds of the genus Physarum polycephalum provide another example: they require no nervous system to find optimal paths to nutrients in a maze. Termites, too, are capable of constructing vast and intricate mounds with highly sophisticated systems of ventilation, temperature regulation, and humidity control—all without central organization or a brain. Each individual follows simple rules, but together they give rise to emergent structures whose functionality rivals that of intelligent human architecture. This kind of intelligence, like other forms of communication among plants or non-cerebral organisms, does not arise from conscious or I-will-deliberate processes. It appears intelligent only because we witness it through the mirror of our own I-consciousness. The problem of consciousness will remain unresolved until we find a way to grasp it objectively. For now this is the very paradox we encounter.
Consciousness, bound to the emotional state of the “I-body” and its environment, may serve as an intelligent catalyst, but it is not in itself identical with intelligence. Consciousness entails the union of affect with the experiencing subject of responsibility.
The transformation of an intelligent agent into a conscious agent requires the union of the self with the very feeling of self—an emotional insight. Emotions are, in essence, autonomous organs of the soul. Jung (1937) writes:
“It would be a great mistake to think that feeling consists of emotions. Emotions are states that possess you; but if you have feeling, you possess it—it does not possess you. If it possesses you, it is an emotion.”
In other words, consciousness involves the development of feeling—and it is precisely this that distinguishes intelligence from consciousness. However, the evidence of intelligence surrounds us. Intelligence is the capacity to achieve goals and solve problems. It includes the ability to communicate and to make use of information through feedback from interaction. Bees, termites, ant colonies, coral reefs, and complex forest systems all serve as examples. In these systems, we see the exchange of information, feedback, self-correction, and self-organization—the same processes that govern neural systems, including the human brain.
The unconscious undoubtedly possesses intelligence. It can process information, analyze, solve problems, anticipate outcomes, and influence consciousness by creating images or responses. And yet, the question of “who” truly mediates conscious insight remains a mystery.
Intelligence that abandoned consciousness—and with it, duality and all its expressions—would in fact regress to a lower evolutionary level. In theory, this is possible. But I am an optimist: I believe that even in such an organism, the collective unconscious would ultimately find its way into the world through a new self.
References:
Vlado Šolc
