In a thought-provoking discussion with psychoanalyst Josh Cohen, we delve into how anger has increasingly shaped our social and political landscape. Recently, I had the opportunity to visit the Philip Guston retrospective at Tate Modern, where I was particularly moved by the artist’s evolution from his early works to the iconic abstract expressionist pieces of the 1950s and ’60s. As I navigated the exhibition, I came across a striking quote from Guston: “The war [in Vietnam], what was happening to America, the brutality of the world. What kind of man am I … sitting at home, reading magazines, going into a frustrated fury about everything – and then going into my studio to adjust a red to a blue?” This powerful sentiment resonated with me as we entered a gallery filled with Guston’s unsettling portrayals of Ku Klux Klan members, where the cartoonish depictions sharply illustrated the banality of evil and expressed his “frustrated fury.”
What struck me about this exhibition was the way it served as an outlet for Guston’s anger, transforming it into a creative force that fueled some of his most significant works. In his book “All the Rage,” Cohen elaborates on this notion, asserting, “These are certainly paintings to make you feel angry, but they will make you feel a lot of other things as well. Anger is most rigid when it’s angry to the exclusion of other feelings, and most alive and creative where it dares to make contact with other feelings.” This viewpoint is both compelling and thought-provoking.
While I expected some practical tips on managing anger, Cohen’s writing doesn’t follow a simple how-to format; it instead probes into the “why” of anger rather than the “how” of coping with it. This tension between observation and prescriptive advice creates a rich narrative that is both unsettling and insightful.
Cohen discusses the pervasive presence of anger in our contemporary culture, particularly after recent political events. He states, “For at least the last decade, and perhaps especially since 2016… anger has felt like the defining color and tone of our daily social and political lives.” He distinguishes between anger and aggression, linking both to an entrenched human challenge. “Anger is the feeling, aggression is the drive,” he explains, referencing Freud’s idea that the drive is never fully satisfied. “We may enjoy the fleeting sense that a given action has blown off enough steam, but anger regenerates itself.”
Although I don’t identify as a Freudian—just an everyday woman wrestling with her own fury—I found Cohen’s insights into both emotion and motivation to be refreshing and relatable. He effectively illustrates how rage can take us back to our earliest selves, especially in personal dynamics, such as those with frustrating siblings.
Cohen’s book takes an intriguing turn when it addresses climate change, an issue that looms large over his exploration of anger. He points out that our political anger often targets those who threaten humanity’s survival. Yet, he grapples with the challenge of pinpointing the specific targets of our climate-related outrage: “If climate anger has an object… it is sublimely diffuse, scattered everywhere and nowhere.” This contemplation of climate anger reveals a depth of despair that Cohen openly acknowledges in his own struggles with inaction.
While Cohen articulates various types of anger—political and personal—climate rage uniquely encapsulates our collective moment. As I read, I found myself wishing he would explore more deeply our shared experience: the painful acknowledgment of environmental fragility and the anger that accompanies that realization.
Through this exploration, I began to reflect on the concept of “usable rage.” What might that look like, and how could it take shape? Guston’s KKK paintings initially faced criticism and scorn, yet they signified a pivotal change for him. Once a respected abstractionist, Guston sacrificed his acclaim to channel his anger into a new mode of expression. He pondered, “What if I had died?… What would I paint if I came back? You have to die for a rebirth.” His anger spurred this rebirth. I’m left contemplating: how can we all harness our anger to inspire our own transformations?