If my neighbor is stronger than I, then I fear him. If he is weaker, then I despise him. If we are equal, then I resort to deception and trickery. What motive could I have for obeying and loving my neighbor?
 ––Jean de Rougemont

‘Some hope to the weak, but also for the strong’

"...this question of the strong and the weak touches
the whole problem of our culture. . .
and in the last analysis, of war and peace as well.
War between nations, between coalitions of nations, between coalitions and coalitions of parties,
is merely the final consequence and supreme expression of the universal conflict I have described."

Can we truly say, then, that there are two kinds of people? What, in the last analysis, is the origin of the marked contrast between the strong and the weak? Are they really so different?

Such are the questions that have been in my mind over the last five years, and which I wish to discuss here in the light of my daily observations. It is with a deep sense of its importance that I  approach the subject, involving as it does two of the most fundamental problems of our times.

First there is the problem of the completely anxiety-ridden. Their number increases constantly in spite of the many advances made in scientific psychology. It is a fact that these people, for the most part, present an appearance of being weak and overwhelmed by life. They feel they belong to a different race of beings from the strong, who succeed in life. Every doctor and counselor can testify to the difficulty of  overcoming this sense of defeat and restoring self-confidence to such people. The trouble is that in order to be successful, they need confidence, but in order to recover their confidence they need success.

What is worse is that this depressing idea of being destined to failure gives them a warped view of themselves and of the world. They exaggerate their failures and the successes of others. They discount their own victories. I spend weeks attempting to encourage a student who has failed his examinations several times. I analyze with him the underlying causes of his inferiority and his fears. He regains a measure of self-assurance, and passes his examinations. I am overjoyed, and expect to see him proud and happy at last. I believe the game has been won. Nothing of the kind; he is convinced that the teacher has awarded him a passing grade out of pity, that his friends and classmates were better prepared than he, and that in life he will be all the more likely to disappoint people who will expect him to have knowledge he does not possess.

But this question of the strong and the weak touches the whole problem of our culture. . . and in the last analysis, of war and peace as well. War between nations, between coalitions of nations, between coalitions and coalitions of parties, is merely the final consequence and supreme expression of the universal conflict I have described.

If weakness leads to a sense of failure, strength too has its vicious circle: One must go on being stronger for fear of suffering an even more crushing defeat. And this race in strength leads humanity inevitably to general collapse.

For this reason I am writing not only to bring some hope to the weak, but also for the strong. The strong feel vaguely that the victories which they must constantly be trying to win for fear of being themselves defeated, sustain the atmosphere of violence, the nervous tension, the threat of catastrophe under which we live in the world.

I believe that there is a great illusion underlying both the despair of the weak and the unease of the strong—and the misfortune of both. The great illusion is the very notion that there are two kinds of human beings, the strong and the weak.

The truth is that human beings are much more alike than they think. What is different  is the external mask—sparkling or disagreeable. What is different is the outward reaction—in the strong or weak. These appearances, however, hide an identical inner personality. The external mask and the outward reaction deceive everybody—the strong as well as the weak. All, in fact, are weak. All are weak because all are afraid. They are afraid of being trampled underfoot. They are afraid of their inner weakness being discovered. We all have secret faults. We all have a bad conscience on account of certain acts which we would like to keep covered up. We are all afraid of others and of God, of ourselves, of life and of death.

Even the most gifted, even those claiming to be sure of themselves, have a vague feeling that their reputation corresponds to reality. They are fearful of the fact of being observed. The most learned professor is afraid of being questioned on something she does not know. The most brilliant psychologist is afraid of being found to be the slave of some commonplace complex. The most eloquent theologian is afraid that the doubts that still haunt him will be guessed at.

All know that close acquaintances have discovered, in their private lives, failings which have escaped their crowds of  admirers. All feel the mystery of life to be much deeper than they make out. All sense that what tomorrow has in store may suddenly reveal their weakness. What distinguishes people from each other is less their inner nature, but more the way they react to this common distress.

Among human beings there are two opposing types of reactions to the same inner distress: strong reactions and weak reactions.

Let us take two students who each know one-half of what they ought to know and are ignorant of the other half. One, obsessed by the gaps in his knowledge, remains dumb even when questioned on what he knows. Inwardly, he bitterly reproaches himself for the panic. This inner conflict can paralyze all the more. The student sees himself or herself already as a subject of shame to his parents. This thought so completely occupies the mind that the student remains deaf to the kindly attempts of the teacher (the examination giver) to give the student a chance to rescue himself or herself from failure.

Another student, on the other hand, is no less aware of her ignorance, but danger acts as a spur. Even when a student is questioned on a matter that he or she does not know, the student throws himself or herself boldly into a brilliant exposition, which cleverly turns on to topics more familiar and conversant. The feeling that victory is within one’s grasp imparts a sort of elation. The happiness increases still more the feeling of self-confidence and intellectual energy.

It is obvious that these reaction mechanisms count in practice far more than the value of the knowledge of the respective students. One turns 50 percent into 100 percent;  the other sees the 50 percent estimated as nothing. The result might be the same even if the “weak” student went into the exam much better prepared than the “strong” student. It is important to say that both are afraid of failing, but only one of them shows the fear, since the reactions to the same fear are quite different. Thus, what differentiates one person from another in any given circumstance is the differing responses to an identical anxiety.

The strong reaction is to give ourselves an appearance of assurance and aggressiveness in order to hide our weakness, to cover up our own fear by inspiring fear in others. We parade our virtues in order to mask our vices.

The weak reaction is to become flustered, and thus to reveal the very weakness we want to hide. We will allow our awareness of our weakness to prevent us from bringing into play the concealment-reactions which permit the strong to hide their weakness. They pretend it is not there.

I have to admit that in this respect the weak seem to me to be more honest than the strong. The strong, in fact, end up by deluding themselves. Hiding their weakness from others, the strong end up failing to recognize it themselves. They repress it without dealing with it or even eliminating it. They retain, so to speak, an “un-conscious” awareness of their weakness. Doing that brings even more concealments and further concealment reactions.

The weak, on the contrary, are hyperconscious of their weakness. That is why they have the appearance of being ill, failures, overwhelmed by life. The strong are not ill, but they make society ill through the fearful operation of their reactions.

The weak allow themselves to be crushed because they believe in the strength of the strong, not realizing it is a cloak to hide weakness. The strong crush the weak in order to gain assurance from their triumph.

In reality we all react strongly or weakly, according to circumstances and in varying degrees. Sometimes, in fact, a weak reaction (such as an attack of nerves) represents a weapon brought into play precisely because of a lack of strong weapons.  Such can be the case, for example, with the child whose tears—a weak reaction—ensured “victory.”  At the other end of the scale a strong reaction such as anger never quite succeeds in hiding the weakness it betrays. The person of anger often sees this reality to some extent. Doing this impels a further train of strong reactions, of increased violence.

So then strong reactions—the thump of the fist on the table, for instance—are an indication that some power of reaction remains. A touchy and impulsive spouse heaps abuse on the partner at the slightest difference of opinion. For another example, we’ve all seen instances among friends in which a flood of old grievances  becomes an excuse for a rushing torrent of vocalized emotional assaults…or for complete silence or withdrawal. The reaction is another method of defense. For all our shouting the victory will not be ours as long as we fail to break down the walls of silence.

In spite of appearances, strong and weak reactions are closely related. This fact is more easily recognized and understood if we observe how rapidly we can pass from a weak reaction to a strong one; or from a strong reaction to a weak one.  The silent partner may rise up in a flash and shout.  A friend may pass quickly from a state of enthusiasm and elation to a state of utter depression. About-turns of this sort are frequent in politics, wherein they occasion acute astonishment.

While I have given examples of sharp conflict, it is true that there can be a subtle interplay of strong reactions (veiled criticism, mild irony, barely visible bluff) and weak reactions (restrained admiration, slight flattery, apparent agreement).

The interplay of strong and weak reactions forms the texture of a thousand and one social, intellectual, and commercial relationships. Clearly, strong and weak reactions are less hostile than one would think. Both are signs of the same fundamental distress, common to all. And both, though by means of different mechanisms, lead to the same result—the crushing of the weak and universal war, until the strong themselves are crushed beneath the ruins they have heaped up

Paul Tournier

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Excerpted from The Strong and the Weak, by Paul Tournier, M.D.

From Chapter 1: Appearance and Reality

Published 1963 by Westminster Press, Philadelphia

Translated by Edwin Hudson

Originally published in French in 1948 as Les Forts et Les Faibles

Six recommended books and studies by Paul Tournier: Escape from Loneliness, The Meaning of Persons, The Whole Person, To Understand Each Other, Learning to Grow Old, and The Adventure of Living.