Who Are You? The Limitations of a Work Identity

Some time ago I wrote about psychologist Ken Druck’s “Alive and Male” seminar, in which 23 of us--strangers all--spent an entire Saturday together trying to sort out the inner life of being a man in today’s world.

As we sat down Ken asked us not to reveal what we did for a living, and I tell you it was an eerie, uneasy feeling for an hour or so. We all felt a little naked. No way to get a quick fix on whom you were talking to; no easy way to tell the other guy where you rank in the world’s hierarchy, what you have achieved or why you should be listened to.

I think each man was shocked to discover how much we rely on work to give us identity. Not only as a fast label for the outside world but for our own sense of who we are.

Major psychological studies agree that one out of three men at work today is going to have a midlife crisis. Crisis means more than sudden hot flashes for sexy young women; the man’s life is going to be seriously torn up--and so are the people who love or depend upon him.

Does it have to happen for so many men? In answering letters from troubled male readers I ask them to think about the word identity now, before it is too late. Men who can find satisfaction in other roles outside the workplace rarely end up in classic breakdowns.

Yes, the paying job may demand No. 1 priority for a time, but it is important to diversify our commitment, as an investment in the future--to see ourselves functioning effectively and with pleasure in other roles too.

To be a husband is an identity, if we care to focus enough time and psychic energy on it. Fatherhood? How many workaholics can list it as more than a peripheral identity? Other possibilities are endless: artistic creation, civic or charitable service, strong religious commitment, a passion for some kind of sport, exercise or hobby, even an intimate friendship bond with another man.

The trouble with work is that we expect it to give us far more than money. When we are young we use it to deny childhood feelings of powerlessness. We gain strength from the support of fellow workers, we achieve a certain status from society’s image of our company or profession, and finally, as we move up, the job offers us power--the ultimate male aphrodisiac.

But these are transient and finally meretricious satisfactions. Work is so rarely organized to meet human needs. At best we can freely adopt someone else’s goals, flexing our imaginations and expanding our powers.

At worst the job requires us to make endless compromises, perhaps subverts our intellectual or ethical values, smothers us with a blind bureaucracy or corrupts with an endless, voracious demand to turn all effort to dollars on the bottom line.

Even when we surmount all this, it’s rarely enough. Among the most severe of midlife depressions are those experienced by men who suddenly discover work has given them more power, possessions (and maybe women) than they ever dreamed of.

But now the “game” is over. They can see the shape of the rest of their lives, and there are no more “victories” to be won.

“Is this all there is?” they keep asking, blindly unaware that for all these years on the job they saw only one mountain worth climbing. It’s never too late to begin again, of course, but the pain of finding new identity may be enormous.

I would like to believe that the new generation will be wiser, will somehow see earlier what a broad spectrum a man’s life needs to take. But the pressures are hard on young men (as well as women). Careerism has taken over our educational institutions: liberal arts today is spelled business administration , and the competition is ferocious.

I suppose, as much as anything, this column is addressed to my son, who is working very hard at his MBA studies these days. I know he will have a great career--no doubt about it. I hope and trust he will find ways to integrate it into a great life.