Writer: Sfiso Atomza | Photographer: Supplied
In Can Themba’s The Suit, a story often analysed for its themes of humiliation and control, there is an easily overlooked but striking detail on which I seek to hinge an argument: Philemon, after orchestrating his cruel psychological punishment of Matilda, “flung himself into a chair and grabbed a book on Abnormal Psychology,” the text suggests. This seemingly small moment holds profound implications. Philemon, armed with knowledge of the human mind contained in that interestingly named book, seemingly wields it not for understanding or self-reflection, but for domination. This detail, often lost in mainstream discussions of the story, resonates deeply with a modern phenomenon: the proliferation of psychological jargon in our daily speech and the subsequent weaponisation of what I can only call “therapy language.”
It’s been building for a few years now. Psychological jargon has become widely accessible, thanks to the internet’s clickbait culture, the algorithm’s preference for shocking confessions, and the very public nature of today’s self-help wave. Fair to acknowledge, while this exposure has empowered many to better understand themselves and their relationships, it has also opened the door for manipulation at scale. At the very least, it results in a dearth of personality. At worst, it leads to psychological collapse, as in the case of poor Matilda. Words like “narcissist,” “gaslighting,” “projection,” “toxic,” and “boundaries,” terms meant to aid in healing and to be diagnosed by professionals, are often misused as tools of accusation, deflection, and, I dare say, subtle mind control.
I saw much of modern society when, bored, I reread The Will to Die collection of short stories and realised how many times I had missed it. Much like Philemon, who uses psychological insight, probably found in that very book on Abnormal Psychology, to orchestrate a slow, devastating punishment rather than a physical one, the ones in the know deploy therapy language to justify emotional cruelty under the guise of self-care or righteousness centred around not being physically violent. But how did the language enter the public domain? One can easily attribute it to the Age of Aquarius and all the knowledge and information it brings with it. More realistically, from my observation, it appears to be a combination of social media influence movements, NGOs, their increased funding, and the necessary work they do in empowering people with information largely from experts. I had to witness it from a distance and, for a while, wonder what it was all about. It was positive. The world was speaking a language we could resonate with. It centred around “doing the work,” a reference to reflection and self-realisation, so that one might become a better human within their society. But I soon realised there was this language developing that was being worn like armour, or perhaps more accurately, a uniform.
It’s a uniform in the sense that jargon signals authority around a particular subject. In the same way a police badge or a doctor’s coat confers social power, mastery of therapy language now communicates moral and intellectual superiority. Just as a uniform allows certain people to feel empowered and act with impunity, these terms and their use allow speakers to define, diagnose, and dismiss others with the very same impunity. When someone speaks in the language of therapy, with all its references to “trauma,” “boundaries,” “inner child work,” and my favourite, “attachment styles,” they are often perceived as more credible, more “healed,” and more right. This isn’t about insight anymore, it’s about rank, and that just ain’t right.
I often think about humiliation and its relation to humility, and how I’ve witnessed the former being used to induce the latter. Philemon’s cruelty is more than an attempt at this, it is methodical. After discovering Matilda’s affair, he reassures her there will be no violence, no physical violence at least. Instead, she is subjected to an unrelenting, ritualised punishment: treating her lover’s abandoned suit as an honoured guest. She must serve it, acknowledge it, endure its presence, a symbol of her shame made inescapable. What makes Philemon’s actions particularly chilling is that he is not acting in the heat of passion. He is calm, strategic, and informed. His book on Abnormal Psychology suggests a familiarity with psychological concepts, perhaps even with his own inner world, and yet he chooses to use this insight to dismantle Matilda’s spirit while conjuring a phantom to live in their house as the suit. His control is psychological. Even if it isn’t the point, it mirrors how modern individuals use therapy jargon not to reflect or connect, but to use a situation to create ghosts that haunt us in order for them to gain the upper hand.
In today’s world, online and in real life, therapy and psychological insights are more accessible than ever. I’ve seen it in interpersonal conflicts where the person armed with the vocabulary to name supposedly harmful behaviours assumes moral superiority. Accusations of gaslighting or narcissism are hurled without self-examination of the more fingers pointing back. Boundaries are set not to foster growth, but to evade responsibility, and worse, the more subtle accountability. I’ve seen people learn about “attachment theory” or “emotional manipulation” only to project those ideas outward, diagnosing everyone else but themselves. Doing the work but not really. This is Philemon’s move, knowing just enough to hurt someone while remaining with the option to claim to be blind to his own cruelty because, I mean, we all have “blind spots.”
Part of the reason therapy language is so easily weaponised is that it carries moral authority. It isn’t just language anymore, it’s a badge. To call someone “toxic” or a “gaslighter” places them on the wrong side of an argument with little room for nuance and a need to calculate a defence that won’t sound or look like a defence. Essentially a trap. And when everyone can wear the same psychological uniform, status becomes more about who shouts the loudest or speaks the most fluently than about who is actually honest. Then we set traps to catch each other out, without a care to be reflective or kind.
My assumption, not knowing the purpose and source of the book and its relation to Philemon prior to the incident, is that Philemon used his knowledge of human behaviour to punish rather than repair. My next assumption is that modern society risks turning psychological insight into a battlefield, and everyone who is privileged to know it is wartime is armed with their tools, rank, and jargon, ready to slaughter the rest of us, the lazy bastards with a “mother wound.” In this context, The Suit teaches us something urgent about our present moment: knowledge of the mind is not inherently good or bad. It falls into the category of things that are beneficial when used appropriately. I don’t know what benefit there is in saying Philemon could have used his understanding to face his pain internally, deal with his demons, and seek healing. Instead, he chose to externalise it, conjure up a living spirit embodied by that suit, intended to destroy not only Tilly, but himself and who he was to her, which could’ve been the point, I realise now.
And so we must ask ourselves, in this era where everyone has access to the tools of psychology and the language of therapy in their various guises, are we using these insights to understand, or to undermine? Are we inwardly reflecting, or just outwardly performing reflection? Are we building connections as communication intends, or using our jargon to declare ourselves the most righteous in the room? As we have read, and should if you haven’t, the story ends in death, and for the living, an indescribable dearth.
“On words. …Cultivate the discipline to wield them gently, without any violence to those we claim we love, responsibly, not as uniforms of superiority or even moral diagnostic tools, but as instruments of care…” — Makandash Adhum
Sfiso Atomza, born Sifiso Buthelezi, is a Southern Africa-based multi-award-winning musician, published writer, and aspiring mass communications pundit based in Johannesburg, South Africa. A full-time father and husband, he travels the world with music as his passport, performs with his critically acclaimed Afro-soul band, The Muffinz, and releases music regularly through his Aural Sense Entertainment & Publishing, a boutique online record label focused on A&R and artist development in South Africa.
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