I remember reading ‘Falling Upwards’ by Richard Rohr many yers ago after recommendations by a few people. I read it with high expectations. I was not only disappointed by the end but unusually suspicious by its general thesis. There was lots in it that resonated and some ideas that, despite some sense of dubiousness, I wished, maybe even hoped, were true. In the end, however, I was not convinced. It lacked, to my mind, evidence to back up conclusions that overstepped the capability of the writer or the field in which it was written. It attempted, unsuccessfully, to provide a holistic narrative that would lead to perfect healing and utopia. It was a helpful story but one that remained unsubstantiated.

What made my response to the book more unsettling was that my negative response was, as suggested by the thesis itself, precisely the thing about me that needed the most healing. In other words, the fact that I questioned the premise of the book showed that the premise was right. When I found myself in this particular thought loop I became aware of the almost cult like thought pattern/methodology. Intrinsic to the thesis was the inner-rationale against any criticism or questions.

This month I read ‘No Bad Parts’ by Richard Schwartz. I finished the book with some of the same feelings I had to ‘Falling Upwards’. Both books, I feel, indulge within the popular therapeutic deism of our age and culture. Along with this is a subtle form of cultural arrogance that often accompanies progressive, post-Enlightenment ideas, particularly in the field of pschology and other metaphysical subjects. I want to briefly use the perspectives of St Augustine and the wider Augustinian theological tradition to critique IFS, particularly on the nature of the self, sin, and the path to spiritual wholeness.

‘No Bad Parts’ acts as an introduction to the concept of Internal Family Systems (IFS) therapy, which posits that our self is made up of innumerable parts who can act in ways that harm us and others. IFS suggests that these parts should be shown love and be embraced rather than rejected. Schwartz’s central argument is that our healing and wholeness comes from understanding and integrating all aspects of the self, even those that seem negative or harmful. Like Rohr’s book, I am on board with this basic paradigm and can see lots of potential. I believe most of what Schwartz’s proposes to be beneficial and can see many connections with other reading that I am doing on unity within Trinitarian theology. There are, however, some places where, I think, he overstates his case and fails to back up anecdotal and experiential claims. The ease with which these aspects of his work are slipped in and established as ‘key’ makes me wary. It’s like a salesman who offers you a solution to your problem and, just as you sign up to the programme, slips in, “And, of course, we’ll need to amputate your legs but you’ll hardly notice they’re gone.”

But even as I characterise Schwartz’s work in this negative way, I notice that this response is explicitly named as proof that the system works. This is, in the schema of IFS, a protector ‘part’ trying to hinder the unburdening of an exile and thus obstructing healing. Despite there not being any ‘bad parts’ there seems to me ‘misguided behaviours of parts’.

Your inner world is real. Parts are not imaginary products or symbols of your psyche; nor are they simply metaphors of deeper meaning. They are inner beings who exist in inner families or societies…

Richard Schwartz, No Bad Parts: Haling Trauma and Restoring Wholeness (London: Vermilion, 2021) p.209

This claim is made with only, albeit supposedly significant, anecdotal evidence rather than empirical evidence. This, interestingly, is named by Schwartz in the final page as the kind of controlling thought that an ‘inner critic’ uses to protect an exile and not allow Self to lead.

I’ve found and worked with several parts of myself – the one who uses my father’s voice to hector me about how unscientific all this is…and the one who still doubts the reality of the inner world, despite decades of evidence.

Schwartz, No Bad Parts, p.214

Again, I am not here to attempt to discredit the benefits and efficacy of this therapeutic approach but there is a lot resting on a metaphysical framework that is seems enticing and exciting and yet lacks any rational attempt at setting out its reality. There is ample use of scientific concepts and words that echo the overriding image that is the basis of IFS but it still lacks direct neurological and psychological grounding. Much is left to trust in Schwartz’s interpretation of his experience with clients working on this approach.

Even his worthy efforts to synchronise his theories with spirituality follow the same trajectory: it all sounds good, plausible and full of potential and then it takes an ominous turn for me (or a part of me) and I’m left uncertain about where it went wrong. Schwartz clearly tries to engage with Christianity but mostly the contemplative tradition and fails to address any of the long theological tradition. Much more is made of Buddhist spirituality which is understandable as this tradition is, essentially, atheistic/agnostic to a particular deity or god and, therefore, lacks any theological coherent narrative. Schwartz repeatedly names the possibility of a god that he refers to as SELF (distinct form the Self of the human person) but this is not an essential element to the healing process.

What IFS lacks, in my opinion, is an explicit, systematic theological and moral framework within which it operates. Without this, the whole process, well meaning and desirable as it is, becomes open to charges of moral ambiguity and inner confusion. IFS relies upon a lot of preconditional moral beliefs that are not explicitly acknowledged or are left unjudged by client and therapist. By using words such as ‘good’ and ‘bad’ and identifying parts that are acting in particular ways and judging them in need of healing all requires a framework that is lacking. There is a risk, therefore, that without a therapist who leads your interactions with the parts you can become stagnated in the process and behaviours are rationalised rather than resolved.

St. Augustine also believed in the intrinsic goodness of creation, including the human self, as everything created by God is fundamentally good. However, he also emphasized the presence of sin and the flawed nature of humanity due to original sin. Augustine and the later tradition that was inspired by his theological writing, talked about sin as a ‘disintegration’ of God’s good creation. They talked about the effects of sin as being a ‘disharmony’ and the role of spiritual renewal as a re-integration, re-harmonising, re-uniting. While Schwartz sees all parts of the self as valuable and in need of integration it stops short of true inner unity, or oneness, due to Schwartz explicit lack of mono-mind thinking. We are to remain internally multiple but constantly striving towards peaceful cohabitation. Augustine on the other hand promotes the idea that we are singular in our identity and that integrity is a form of unity, devoutly to be wished.

For Augustine, sin is also a deviation from God’s will, and the path to redemption/healing involves confession, repentance, and the grace of God. He believed that true healing comes from aligning oneself with God’s will and seeking His forgiveness. Schwartz’s approach focuses on internal psychological processes without necessarily invoking the need for divine intervention. IFS suggests that self-acceptance alone is sufficient for healing. Augustine, however, would argue that without divine intervention, our efforts remain incomplete. It is through God’s grace that our wounds are healed, and our true selves are restored.

Hugh of St. Victor was a medieval theologian whose work on spiritual formation expanded Augustine’s concept of ‘disintegration’ of the self. He suggested that sin divides the inner and outer world into conflicting parts. The work of reformation is, literally a re-formation of that which is disintegrated. There are clear resonances with the experience of Schwartz and his clients. Hugh goes on to emphasise the importance of contemplation to further understand one’s self but, diverging from Schwartz, he specifically calls us to look for the Divine Form as the goal of our own unity. He argues that the ultimate goal of understanding the self should be to better know and serve God. IFS, in contrast, risks fostering a form of self-centeredness if not given a more robust teleological/eschatological goal or model.

The interest in the work of Schwartz, Rohr, Jordan Peterson and many others shows an appetite for the metaphysical elements of our culture. The purely materialistic philosophies which have held power over the West for a century or more is beginning to crumble and become dissatisfying. There is an increasing desire to ‘re-enchant’ our world. The study or understanding of metaphysics, however, has been so long abandoned that in its rediscovery we remain relatively naive in our grasp and use of it.

If you listen to the language and tone of cultural discourse in recent years you will notice how much of the discussions slip easily into the metaphysical realm. Words of wisdom just need to sound nice without any deeper coherence put upon them. This where populism has grown from; the inability to critique metaphysical ideas and analyse them sufficiently. Take the US election as an immediate example. Gone are the policies and economic decisions that are needing to be made. Now the electorate are being placed within a cosmic, apocalyptic battleground. This has more of the Hollywood blockbuster than serious discussions as to the legalistic programme needed to maintain society. The debate has been firmly planted in the realm of morality but without establishing the foundations and rules as to how to navigate such a world. This use of metaphysics lacks the traditional rigour and protection from pure fantasy and speculation.

The danger, of course, is that we mistake metaphysics with fiction and we enter the metaphysical realm and lose any connection or relationship with the physical world. Metaphysics is only useful if it informs and strengthens our understanding of the physical world and we can only really harness the true power of the metaphysical if it also is shaped and understood through the physical world. The divorcing of these two realms leads to disconnection and confusion. My theological forebears, such as St Augustine and Hugh of St Victor understood the need for the careful rigour of ensuring that what is experienced is understood through reason and logic.

Our culture has lost that rigour. As we reopen the metaphysical box and find enchanting things within we’re in danger of going too far wishing things into existence and place our hope in things which are not real, true or beneficial. As we dabble in these non-materialistic elements of our experience and go in search of the long lost moral framework that brought stability to our life together, we need to re-learn how to handle such things and to measure them and test them for truth. If we fail to take that task seriously we will find ourselves lost and trapped in an inner world, separated from reality, further disappointed and disillusioned.

I want to finish by raising a growing concern I have on the sheer number of people who are caught in conspiracy theories. Indeed this way of thinking is so insidious that I regular find myself uncertain as to what I think I know is real or fiction. The media has no interest in promoting the important, nuanced work of teaching metaphysics to their readership. The act of persuasion now lacks the basic framework of philosophical debate involving logic and reason. Instead of discussion and discovery of truth we have linguistic and rhetorical trickery that baffle and confuse. We do not encourage each other to judge/discern the difference between right and wrong, true and false. In our post-modern, subjective culture if you can imagine it, it is real. As I say, this is the soil in which populist, extremist ideologies grow and flourish. It is in this morally ambiguous, untestable environment that the vulnerable, the busy and the fearful are abused and led into their own intellectual prisons which we call ‘cults’.

This week alone I have had five conversations with visitors in the Cathedral all of which have quickly entered into metaphysical discussions where my conversation partner has tried to persuade me of a reality which is unmeasurable and unprovable. There is a growth in this form of gnostic knowledge; you either know or you don’t. I have remained unpersuaded and when I pose alternative interpretation of events they have looked at me with pity as if I lack the gift to see. On two occasions I have felt confident enough to name the illogical aspect of their argument and have encouraged them to be more precise in their disputation to persuade me. This has caused them to become more agitated and aggressive and, on one occasion, I have been blamed for the change in the tone of our conversation. Ironically, of these five conversations, in three of them it has been insinuated that I am ‘far right’ and in the other two I have been called ‘woke’. I guess that shows I am in the middle!

What I am seeking to highlight is that this unfamiliarity with the discipline of metaphysics has opened us up to a cultural destructive emphasis on vacuous rhetoric and misuse of imagination. Schwartz’s work in IFS is, I believe, a genuine, benevolent attempt at bringing peace and healing to people specifically to the kind of people I encounter visiting the Cathedral. There are elements of this therapeutic approach that I think have merit and could prove to be healthy and real. At this stage, however, the manner in which it is written about by Schwartz feels too speculative and confusing. The lack of foundational proof of the reality of parts, for example, means that IFS moves, in my mind, to be positive thinking adjacent rather than engaging in rational and reasonable exploration of the complexities of non-material reality.

I for one would rather seek unity in the One who reconciles all things in Himself. That story has been tested over centuries of theological thought. I’ll stick with Augustine for now: thank you.