The Nature of Evil within Women

A look at the archetype of the Great Mother

Macaulay Elsworth
Publius Corner

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Perseus holding the head of Medusa. Photo by Lia Cornicello on Unsplash

What comes to mind when you think of evil and women? Does your mind turn to stories in mythology, like Medusa or Lillith? Or to a TV show or movie? where the characters in said shows act a lot like the villains and heroes we find in mythology. In this article, I shall talk about the former, mythology, to tell the story of evil within women and its impact on a man’s psychological development. We start with Perseus.

The Myth of Perseus

In this story, Perseus is tricked by King Polydectes of Seriphus into killing the only mortal Gorgan, Medusa. This particular Gorgan can vary in appearance, but the typical depiction shows her with the body of a snake (a human torso) and the head of a human covered in snakes. The 2010 film, Clash of the Titans represents Medusa in this way.

In psychological terms, Medusa is Perseus's unconscious, chthonic side, which would consume him if he failed to kill her, preventing Perseus's masculinity (and ego) from evolving. So the idea is that one must — especially men — go through a “trail” to prove to the gods and themself that they are worthy of this new spiritual form of masculinity. A new sense of self, as it were. This “spiritual” form of masculinity we shall talk about next.

Perseus did not and could not kill Medusa on his own. However, the goodness of wisdom and consciousness would help him — Athena. For Perseus, Athena personifies the feminine, spiritual principle of consciousness: a woman of purity and intellect, hence the spiritual classification — she is the enemy of the chthonic Great Mother element in Medusa. In terms of help, Athena provides Perseus with, among other things, a shield (the Aegis) that her father, Zuse, gave her. Neumann, in his book, The origins and history of Consciousness, can tell us more about the significance of the shield:

The power of the Great Mother is too overwhelming for any consciousness to tackle directly. Only by indirect means, when reflected in Athene’s mirror, can the Gorgon be destroyed — in other words, only with the help of the patron goodness of consciousness who, as the daughter of Zeus, stands for “heaven.” Page 216.

Newmann goes on in the book about another aspect of the Great Mother: the Terrible Father, played by Posidon. As ruler of the ocean, he sends a sea monster, Cetus, to destroy the city and kill Andromeda — whom Perseus recuses to free his ego from the Great Mother. Why is this relevant, you ask? because Posidon as ruler of the ocean, is the monster and thus is in league with the Great Mother as “Medusa’s Lover.” Both symbolize the unconscious mind of Perseus.

As the reader may know by now, the nature of evil within women has much to do with men. By suppressing the spiritual or psychological growth of a man’s soul, whose ego is unable to evolve— either by his mother or a young woman — they will have complete dominion over said man. The man would become, in modern terms, a simp: a man easily tricked or seduced by a young woman or dominated (psychologically) by older women. Independence from the mother is key to man’s stability in life; as Newmann concludes,

The fact that Perseus then gives the Gorgon’s head to Athena, and that she emblazons it upon her shield, crowns this whole development as the victory of Athena over the Great Mother, of the warrior aspect which is favourable to man and consciousness. Page 217

The Great Mother

Saint George and the Dragon is another example of the hero myth. In this myth, the Great Mother (the unconscious) is personified by the Dragon which George, like Perseus, must kill to free his consciousness. Painting by Georgios Klontzas on Wikimedia Commons. Public Domain.

What exactly, in terms of psychology, is the Great Mother? Is this entity, this demon, shall we say, in the minds of every woman? Of course. Otherwise, how can she identify evil if she can’t see it within herself? When discussing the Great Mother, Newmann uses the term Uroboros — meaning the endless return of darkness — typically depicted as a snake eating its tail. The Great Mother, who can manifest as Medusa, Poseidon, Athena (in other myths), and others, including Hera, are all archetypes of the Great Mother.

The idea or image of the Great Mother archetype comes from Carl Jung. His student, Erich Neumann, talks in compelling detail about this archetype and its implications on the psyche. When a woman commits an act of malice, typically speaking, through the actions of a submissive man — like a son, as in Nero’s case, or as a submissive-son-like boyfriend or husband. This is the reason, in my opinion, why sons take after their fathers: the need to free their ego from their mother’s maternal nature is a serious and necessary task.

In The origins and history of Consciousness, Newmann tells a story about a boy whose mother refuses to let her son leave the house — thus threatening the growth and development of her son. “But nobody can be anybody else; nobody can be what I am — nobody but me!” the son cries out in despair. “But the mother slaps his face and tells him he is to remain his mother’s son and not have an ego” (Page 167).

This story Newmann tells us also involves a blind father, who is opposed to the mother’s overbearing love. The blind father tries to reason with the boy, saying, “It is rumoured that your mother has a grown-up baby in her house,” and adds, “Men come from men” (Page 166.) And the mother, a little later in the book, replies with, “My son is no hero, I need no hero son” (Page 166). Reading on, we find the son beginning to understand the position of the blind father, “Perhaps the life we live is also the life of the gods.”

The last quote is of significant importance — why? Because mythical stories teach us, essentially, how one ought to raise their kids: the stories in myths fill the mind with role models one can follow as guides, the likes of Perseus, Hercules, and Theseus all play a role in guiding one consciousness through the trials in life. Without them, we become lost in the darkness of the Great Mother, looking around with frantic eyes for a monster to slay to free the princess. That is to say, to free one’s “ego consciousness,” as Newmann phrases it, from the darkness of the Great Mother.

Final thoughts

These archetypes are in all cultures, depending on which branch of mythology you are familiar with, Greek, Biblical, Egyptian; take your pick — one will see them in the stories the ancients tell. These stories are, in my view, a comprehensive understanding of the necessary development of human consciousness; that is to say, the journey one takes through adolescence and on to adulthood.

Finally, Newmann, the author I reference in the article, is concerned primarily with how men perceive women, as their minds will undoubtedly “sum up” her personality by conjuring up an archetypal figure from pop culture or a mythical story. Said characterization will dictate how the man and woman interact with one another. If the woman has control, she can play the part of Athena — as his feminine, spiritual guide — or she can play the role of someone like Cleopatra: the enchantress who seduces men to get what she wants and leaves chaos in her wake. Why would a woman fight a man when all she has to do is smile at him? There is nothing more seductive in this world than a woman's smile.

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