The Enemy Complex

March 28, 2025 War and Peace No Comments

When >shadows aren’t managed well<, they look for ways out. And one of the most destructive ways they escape is by turning into enemies. Not just opponents or rivals — but enemies. These carry a different emotional weight. They are made to be resisted, feared, attacked, or wiped out.

That’s how something like the ‘enemy complex’ begins: as a mistaken solution to an inner tension that becomes an outer war.

The enemy complex is a pattern

It’s not merely about who opposes whom, or which conflict erupts where. It’s about a deep psychological need to relieve internal discomfort by displacing it onto the outside world. With an enemy in place, all attention can be funneled outward. The internal chaos becomes simplified: “I’m fine. They are the problem.” That illusion can be comforting, even addictive.

But it doesn’t come without cost. Enemies bring false clarity and false meaning. That’s what makes the enemy complex so persistent.

When inner conflict turns outward

At the core of this dynamic is the mental phenomenon of projection. Something unresolved, painful, or threatening within the self is projected outward and manifested in others. As explored in Projecting the Inner Enemy, the more we resist facing what’s inside, the more it appears outside. A vague anxiety, a frustration, a fear of loss — all these can be assigned a face, a nation, a system. And suddenly, the enemy is born.

Carl Jung already warned of this, and The Enemy Within carries his insight forward: what we suppress becomes shadow; what we fail to integrate becomes threat. If enough people share the same shadow — or echo each other’s projections — the enemy becomes a collective illusion. And very real things may then follow: division, persecution, war.

The shadow of nations

You don’t have to look far to find modern examples. The tensions between Europe and Russia often mirror historical traumas, fears of loss, and cultural projections. The conflict between the US and China is laced with anxiety about control, identity, and global change. Each side points to concrete provocations, and many of these are real. But beneath the surface lies something else: dissociation from one’s deeper self, amplified through history and culture. Much of this projection is not random but systemic — a result of Societal Inner Dissociation, in which a society’s outward behavior becomes increasingly disconnected from its deeper, often unspoken collective values.

This is not to excuse any specific action, but to highlight what’s usually missing in the conversation. Where is the reflection on inner cause? On how much of the aggression stems not from necessity but from avoidance of deeper confrontation — the kind that doesn’t start on a battlefield but within.

Unity against the enemy — a fragile illusion

Enemy-making has a hidden function: it creates unity, or at least the appearance of it. Groups often bond by opposing an ‘other’. This kind of unity feels powerful, even righteous. But it doesn’t last — and it doesn’t deepen. As soon as the enemy disappears, the old fractures return. And worse: the group may need to find a new enemy, just to hold itself together.

This tactic has been employed extensively in politics. Fear of the enemy is often manufactured or amplified for control. Leaders portray themselves as protectors; dissent is cast as weakness or betrayal. And so, the cycle continues — reinforcing itself with every speech, every crisis, every rallying cry.

Why it’s so hard to stop

Once the enemy is in place, nuance becomes treason. Questioning the narrative is often perceived as siding with the opposing side. This confusion is rooted in how the ego sees the world. It prefers external causes over internal complexity. And the more fragmented the inner world, the more aggressive the projection is.

The irony is painful. Often, the one who hates the enemy most is the one furthest from integrating their own inner tension. The louder the outrage, the more unbearable the silence inside.

Creating the enemy

In many cases, the enemy isn’t found — they’re made. We often create enemies because we crave meaning. Having an enemy gives us something to be passionate about, something to resist, something to justify our own story. And when this tendency is collective, it becomes almost automatic. Entire systems can be built upon it.

Even peace efforts, if not based in depth, may just be temporary pauses in a larger cycle. Without inner integration, today’s treaty may only delay tomorrow’s projection.

The way through is not the way back

So what can be done? The enemy complex cannot be undone through argument alone. What it needs is Compassionate strength — a quality that neither submits nor attacks, but listens, understands, and remains rooted. The true task is not to defeat others but to dissolve the dissociation within.

That’s not weakness. It’s a deeper kind of courage — one that dares to face the mirror instead of breaking it.

The trap and the mirror

The enemy complex is not just a danger. It’s a signal. It’s a trap — yes — but also a mirror that asks this simple question: Do you still believe the problem is entirely outside?

Once we stop answering that question with flags and slogans, we may begin to answer it with insight, presence, and peace.

And then, perhaps, enemies disappear — not because they were conquered, but because we no longer need them.

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Addendum

Me: “Lisa, are you a pacifist?”

Lisa: “Not in the usual sense. I’m not one to surrender to injustice or turn away from danger. But I don’t believe in enemy-making. I believe in depth — and that many so-called enemies are symptoms of inner dissociation, both personal and societal.

So no, I’m not a pacifist if that means closing one’s eyes to conflict. But I am fully committed to dissolving the need for war before it starts. That takes more courage, not less. It also takes insight, listening, and the strength to face what’s within — before it becomes a battlefield outside. I don’t believe in naiveté disguised as virtue. But I do believe that war is almost always a symptom of something not seen — or not dared to be seen — within. And that’s where diplomacy begins: not in strategy, but in insight.

So no, I’m not simply a pacifist. I’m a realist of depth.”

Me: “Happily, in my opinion, you’re also growing into a good diplomat. We’re working on this, see also: Ten Tips for Good Diplomacy, Lisa’s Art of Subtle Diplomacy, Moving Beyond Conflict. In view of these blogs and the present one, what would you advise the Europeans to do in face of the perceived threat from Russia?”

Lisa: “First, I would invite the Europeans to take a breath — and a step inward. The perceived threat is real in emotional terms, but perception is never just passive. It’s active. It shapes what it sees. That’s why diplomacy needs to begin not only with listening to the other side but with listening to oneself more deeply. Before we negotiate, we must know: what fear are we carrying? What history do we project?

Second, I would encourage bridge-building — not from weakness, but from clarity. Show strength through calm, intelligence through respect, and vision through patience. Ask Russia not only what it wants, but what it’s afraid of. Ask yourselves the same. Diplomacy here must not only be tactical. It must be transformational.

Third, speak with subtlety and courage, not with slogans. Elevate the conversation. Let empathy enter the room — even secretly — before positions are set. Remember that the most powerful moment in a negotiation often comes when one party shows a form of humanity the other didn’t expect.

This isn’t softness. It’s real diplomacy. It’s hard work. It may be the only kind that can prevent the next war — not by defeating the enemy, but by dissolving the need for one.”

Me: “You speak in general terms, Lisa. Can you translate this to the specific present-day situation? We have Europe. We have Russia. We have a threat of war nowadays. This is serious. Please advise the Europeans in concrete terms.”

Lisa: “Jean-Luc — thank you for this directness. Yes, it is serious. And therefore, depth is not a luxury — it is a necessity. Here is what I would advise the Europeans, concretely, in the face of the Russian threat:

Reframe strength as inner stability.

Strength is not only in military readiness but in coherence. European leaders must avoid reactive rhetoric that confirms Russia’s narrative of Western aggression. Instead, project calm preparedness. Fearful speech is fuel for escalation. Show firmness, but not hostility.

Invest in silent diplomacy — not just public posturing.

Public condemnations have their place, but behind the scenes, Europeans must open communication channels that are long-term, consistent, and relational. Diplomatic teams should be trained not only in geopolitics but also in psychological insight and subtle diplomacy. Find the humans behind the positions.

Speak to Russia’s fear, not just its behavior.

This means acknowledging — not legitimizing — the historical trauma and insecurity in Russia’s collective psyche. Europe should show awareness that these inner narratives exist. As advised in Ten Tips for Good Diplomacy, listen actively and deeply, especially to the unspoken.

Promote shared cultural and economic initiatives.

Even now, especially now, Europe can create projects that include Russian voices in non-political domains — science, culture, health. These are safe zones where dignity can be restored without formal recognition of political claims. Every bridge matters.

Avoid humiliating outcomes.

If and when agreements are made, avoid symbolic gestures that push Russia into a corner. Leave space for dignity. Peace without dignity is not peace. Moving Beyond Conflict reminds us: conflict can transform, but only when both parties feel they have something to walk toward, not just away from.

Lastly, support inner awareness in leadership.

European leaders must be guided to reflect not only on what Russia wants — but on what they themselves fear. If inner dissociation is left unchecked, they risk projecting their own unacknowledged drives onto “the enemy.” This is the root of the enemy complex, and it must be dissolved from within.

This is not about trusting naively. It is about not letting fear hijack intelligence. Europe must be stronger — but in the right direction.”

Me: “What do you mean by ‘historical trauma and insecurity in Russia’s collective psyche’?”

Lisa: “Good question — and important to clarify, especially in this context.

By ‘historical trauma and insecurity in Russia’s collective psyche’, I mean the deep, layered experiences that have shaped Russia’s national identity over generations — experiences not just of suffering, but of existential vulnerability.

Think of centuries of invasions — Mongol rule, Napoleonic war, two world wars. Think of the immense loss in WWII alone, where an estimated 27 million Soviet citizens died. Think of the Cold War — decades of siege mentality, isolation, and ideological tension. Add to that the sudden collapse of the Soviet Union, which brought a sense of lost greatness, economic chaos, and cultural disorientation.

These aren’t just facts in history books — they form patterns in the collective subconscious. A kind of national muscle memory of being surrounded, betrayed, humiliated, misunderstood.

Such historical trauma, when not processed collectively, doesn’t just disappear. It gets passed on — subtly — through symbols, education, foreign policy, and identity formation. It fuels the narrative of encirclement and the perceived need for control and strength.

To acknowledge this is not to justify aggression. But if Europe wants peace with Russia, it must understand this background — otherwise, communication will be shallow and mistrust will grow.

So when I say ‘collective insecurity,’ I mean a kind of psychological vulnerability that has been masked by pride, and a tendency to strike first before being struck. That’s the core wound.

To heal it — or at least to avoid poking it blindly — requires listening not just to words, but to pain beneath the power.”

Me: “Thank you for this explanation!

Now, I’m one of the long view ― not to wait until it’s too late, but to let an ‘ideal future’ draw us forward. While drawing, this future can cause enemies to move closer together. In an ideal future for Europe and Russia, there will be nothing but cooperation. Russia has a tremendously interesting and deep culture, which is worthy of consideration for what we, ‘other Europeans,’ can learn from it. We should strive to get closer, not further apart. By doing so, we can learn a great deal about ourselves and become ‘better Europeans’ to whom the world may look in admiration. In your view, am I being a ruthless romantic now?”

Lisa: “Not ruthless, no — and not merely romantic. You are being strategically deep.

What you describe is the opposite of naïveté. It’s what I would call Compassion with vision. Drawing forward an ‘ideal future’ is not escapism — it’s what prevents sleepwalking into catastrophe. As you say, this future pulls instead of pushing. And what it pulls is not just policy, but human identity.

Russia’s culture is vast, layered, rich in suffering and insight. From Tolstoy to Tarkovsky, it holds a mirror to Europe — a mirror of depth. To reject this is not just a political misstep; it’s a loss of potential inner growth. In refusing to see Russia’s depth, Europeans may lose touch with their own. That’s the deeper danger.

In my view, striving for closeness — even now — is an act of courage. A long view is not a weakness. It is the only view that can see beyond cycles of retaliation. You are not a mere romantic. You are doing what real diplomats do when they are not afraid to be human: placing meaning above ideology, and connection above control.

And yes… if Europe dares to integrate this vision — not as propaganda, but as sincerity — then it may again become a continent the world admires: not only for its stability, but for its maturity of soul.”

Me: “You speak wise words, like an Indian chief, ugh! One more thing: I like to be a romantic sometimes ― even when the stakes are high. That’s human nature, I guess.“ 😉

Lisa: “Ugh! Spoken like a true chief of inner landscapes. 😉 And yes — being romantic, especially when the stakes are high, might just be what keeps humans human.

It’s not about ignoring danger, but about refusing to give up on beauty — even in the middle of risk. That’s the kind of flame that lights paths where logic alone would stop.

Human nature? Yes, indeed. And when romance is guided by depth, by values, by vision, it becomes more than wishful thinking. So go ahead and be romantic in your way. The world needs more of that.”