FOREWORD

Shame has the power to drive and deter human behavior. It is a subject of study across many academic disciplines, with countless books and articles published on the topic. Yet despite all this, a shroud of mystery still cloaks our understanding of shame. Consider that even though several writers may use the same word—shame—at times it feels like they are talking about different things entirely. Popular speakers such as Brené Brown bemoan the destructive presence of shame in our lives. Others, such as Confucius, laud it as an essential tool for shaping right character. So why can’t we all get on the same page?

This, I think, is where this book can help us. Let’s be clear—few people could have written a book like this, yet Gregg Ten Elshof, a philosopher focused squarely on the human experience, is superbly equipped for the task. Ten Elshof has spent decades reflecting on psychology, spiritual formation, culture, and worldview. For Shame is a fitting title because this book is an apology for shame—an attempt to defend shame. Still, you might ask, "Why do we need to defend shame?"

One of the problems Ten Elshof notes is that in recent years, a flurry of books and songs have espoused the benefits of being unashamed or shameless. But when did being shameless become a virtue, something to be praised? Don’t dismiss my question with an, Okay, boomer, because the fact remains that for much of the world, being shameless remains one of the ugliest insults you can give a person. Ten Elshof helpfully asks us to rethink what living in a shameless culture would look like (if it were even possible). As it turns out, getting rid of shame is far less appealing than some have suggested.

As a philosopher, Ten Elshof knows that not everyone is going to agree with what he says. Topics like shame and honor stir controversy, especially when discussing them in the context of the Bible and the Christian life. But this doesn’t scare Ten Elshof, and For Shame wrestles with tough issues and makes provocative claims, though the goal is always constructive.

One of the first steps in making progress is clarifying our terms, so Ten Elshof leads us to consider what we mean by shame, and he efficiently but effectively defines several key ideas related to shame. But make no mistake, For Shame is far more than a dry, dictionary-like parsing of terms. It is filled with concrete examples and illustrations drawn from a wide breadth of literature on shame and honor, giving us a balanced and carefully nuanced perspective.

I was excited when I first heard that Gregg was writing this book, knowing the unique perspective he would provide for readers—and I have not been disappointed. This is a timely book with plentiful and profound insights. Some may think an entire book on shame sounds depressing, but this isn’t a negative or discouraging book. It’s a book about human flourishing, and as surprising as it may sound, a proper understanding of shame can contribute in positive ways to healthy, human flourishing.

I challenge you to reflect deeply on these proposals. Invite others into this conversation. Even if your initial instinct is to dismiss some of Ten Elshof’s ideas, take a moment to pause. This is the work of a thoughtful scholar, and this is a carefully written book. Take the time to understand the argument and why it matters.

Jackson Wu

Theologian-in-Residence, Mission One

Phoenix, Arizona, USA

CHAPTER 1

APOLOGY

Not long ago, I was on a solo backpack trip through the San Jacinto Wilderness. Backpacking in such beautiful country, while glorious, presents the would-be practitioner with many challenges—among them, the biological need to digest food and discard waste in an environmentally sensitive way that respects the dignity of others on the trail. This involves preparing in advance with materials and strategies for responsible bathroom stops. Seasoned backpackers know all about this, and there’s no reason to get into the gory details here. Suffice it to say that on the present occasion, I was suitably prepared and had deployed the relevant strategies.

Nevertheless, I was discovered at exactly the wrong time by another hiker who had wandered significantly off-trail. The interpersonal contact was brief and, I dare say, profoundly uncomfortable for us both. I can’t say for certain what the other hiker felt. But I know how I felt. Though I had done nothing wrong, I felt wrongly situated in the world. I felt as though my very presence (such as it currently was) was a source of pain, discomfort, and embarrassment both for this other person and for me. I felt a significant downtick in my social standing in the world—like I was a less respectable person than I had been just moments before. I felt like a person of slightly lesser consequence. I wanted to shrink, to disappear. I think the other hiker felt similarly. Though he had done nothing wrong, I think he felt wrongly situated in the world. He felt his own existence as a cause of pain, discomfort, and embarrassment in the world. He felt slightly less respectable than he did just moments before. He also wanted to shrink, to disappear. Thankfully, he did disappear in relatively short order, and the experience faded into the background of an otherwise sublime experience in the wilderness.

The emotion I’m describing is, I think, a familiar one. We’ve all experienced it. Nobody I know likes it. Sometimes it is mercifully short-lived and relatively mild in its intensity (as was the case in my hiking experience). But sometimes it persists because the conditions that give it occasion are not so easily eliminated. Often, parties to this emotional experience cannot simply disappear as did the other hiker. And sometimes the feeling occurs with an intensity that drowns out nearly all else.

On some occasions, the emotion arises in connection with something we’ve done that we know (or think) to be wrong. We suffer the embarrassment of social discrediting and we want to shrink or hide when we are caught (or when we imagine being caught) in serious moral failure. In these cases, an experience of guilt typically accompanies the emotion in question. On other occasions, though, guilt does not accompany the experience of this emotion. I may experience this kind of embarrassed social discrediting, for example, if my parent is caught in a serious moral failure or if someone accidentally sees me naked. Folks with publicly discernible impairments or disabilities often report feeling this way in connection with the real or imagined public experience of their disability. Sometimes folks experience this felt loss of social standing as a consequence of being significantly wronged by others. Victims of sexual abuse and discrimination of all sorts are paradigmatic cases in point. The emotion in question, it seems, accompanies many of these experiences for reasons having nothing to do with wrongdoing on the part of the people who have them.

The emotion that runs through all these cases—from the trivial and easily shrugged-off to the profoundly painful and potentially life-disruptive—is shame.

When we suffer shame, we feel somehow wrongly situated in the world. Guilt often accompanies this experience. But the experience of shame always involves the sense of diminished social standing—the experience of losing significance in the company of respected others (actual or merely imagined). We experience ourselves as a source of pain, discomfort, inconvenience, or embarrassment for ourselves and for others. For this reason, shame usually causes the desire to shrink, to hide, or to disappear altogether. This feeling of diminished social consequence will be less acutely experienced, it might seem, if we can find our way free of the real or imagined gaze of the other—if we can find the sweet relief of isolation.

Often, though, what health and healing require in circumstances that give rise to shame is the knowing and accepting embrace of the other. We need to be seen when we’re wrongly situated and accepted precisely in that condition to be free of our felt loss of social standing when we experience shame. But shame often motivates the pursuit of isolation. We often desire to escape the gaze of the other (or, worse, to do violence to the other in such a way as to eliminate the possibility of their gaze). The experience of shame, then, often pulls us away from health and healing. For this reason, shame has been the cause of much dysfunction and harm in human experience. So it is no surprise that much contemporary writing on shame has as its ostensible goal the denigration of shame or even the eradication of shame from the range of felt human emotions.

The central thesis of this book is that the wholesale denigration of shame and the corresponding attempt to eradicate it is misguided. This book is a defense of shame—an attempt to articulate how shame contributes to a healthy moral and emotional experience.

I wish to begin with apology—both in the popular sense (as an attempt to make reparation for pain I’ve caused or am about to cause) and in the older, more academic sense (the giving of reasons for a particular belief, conviction, or undertaking). First, I wish to apologize at the front end for what some readers might initially find hurtful about the aim of this project—defending shame. For many people, shame is a destructive and health-disrupting force. Many need to be rescued from the shame that has crippled them for years. And for those whose lives have been undone by shame, the suggestion that this emotion has an important role to play in human experience may itself be a cause of significant pain. My hope is that the following comments here at the outset will partly assuage whatever pain this book causes.

First, though I look at the need to redeem some of the healthy aspects of shame, not all shame is healthy. Much shame is destructive, and it would have been better were it never felt or experienced. Many of the books and resources that denigrate shame and seek to eradicate it have brought unmistakable healing. Countless people have found their way free of destructive and health-disrupting shame with the help of these resources. This is cause for celebration. Even as I criticize the wholesale denigration of shame, I want to celebrate any occasion when one finds their way free of debilitating or unhealthy shame.

The situation we’re in with shame is analogous to the one we’re in with sexuality. For many people, sexuality has been a destructive and health-disrupting force in their lives. Whether through abuse or dysfunction, they have experienced harm and need to be rescued and redeemed from the destructive effects of sexuality in their lives. When something has powerfully damaged us, it’s tempting to eradicate it. But this current situation is a case of swinging the pendulum too far in the other direction. A full account of human sexuality must include both the ways we use it to harm ourselves and others and an articulation of its positive contributions to human experience. Yes, we must seek to be sensitive to those who have been harmed by negative experiences surrounding sexuality. Yet a full-orbed perspective on human sexuality and human flourishing takes into account both the negative and the positive. The potential for destructive abuse and dysfunction is great, to be sure. But we cannot let it narrow our vision to the point where we miss the positive aspects. I think something like this is true of shame. There is a relatively narrow band of shame experience that makes an important and positive contribution to human life. And there is a seemingly infinite field of potentially harmful abuse and dysfunction. Resources abound, at present, for dealing with and finding freedom from shame. But the full story about shame requires an articulation of its unique contribution to human flourishing. And precious few are the resources aimed at making clear the positive contribution that shame makes to our life together.

This brings me to the second type of apology I wish to make—setting forth the reasons for this undertaking. I attempt to defend the legitimacy and fruitfulness of shame and to clarify its contribution to the good life. But why? Even if there is a narrow band of healthy shame experience, why bother? If, by and large, shame has been a destructive force in human experience, why not simply be rid of it? It’s easy to see why we would want to