According to psychology’s theory, infants have a natural tendency to focus on their caregivers. Human connection, or so it seems, is particular rather than generic. All of us orient to certain people, develop key relationships with them, and rely on their good graces to stabilize our and habits of living. This proclivity does not end with infancy or even . Throughout life we want the company of loved ones, and especially so in our final moments.

More than a half-century ago, John Bowlby and Mary Ainsworth theorized the terms of attachment in infants and children and explored these ideas in a series of experiments (see Bowlby and Ainsworth, 1991). They were interested explicitly in how their subjects behaved in the presence of a trusted (usually, the mother) and how they responded to the absence of that caregiver. To use the researchers’ terminology, “secure” children are those who express themselves openly and warmly to the mother but who also are soon comfortable in her absence. A second style is the -resistant, or “ambivalent.” Such children are upset when the caregiver leaves. They want her to return but then are resistant or angry when she does. Third is the “anxious-avoidant” style. This is marked by a relative lack of emotion both when the mother is present and when she returns. The child is anxious but has troubler expressing this; withdrawal is the preferred course. Added later was a fourth style, the “disorganized.” In this instance, children are flooded by tension and and are inconsistent in their response patterns.

Attachment theory was controversial initially for its attempt to link human connection to the “imprinting” activities of other species. However, it also stresses that trust and stability are outcomes of supportive social relationships. That is, how children respond to separation depends on the expectations (or “internal working models”) they have established regarding the people they depend on. In other words, quality-of-care matters.

Would any of us claim that these concerns – and their responses – end with childhood? Although presumably more in charge of our own relationships, stable in our judgments, and “well-defended” in self-estimations than children are, we adults remain anxious about processes of attachment and dis-attachment. Our children grow up and leave home; parents – and other loved ones – die. form and dissolve intimate friendships. Older couples separate and . To be an adult is to know that relationships have endings as well as beginnings.

Those endings – or their preludes – are frequently marked by anxiety, jealously, , sadness, and fear. Indeed, sometimes our worries about these issues make us refrain from developing close connections to others. We decide that the better forms of security are found in personal independence. We dismiss or avoid people before they can hurt us (Bartholomew and Horowitz, 1991).

Most of us seem to have our own styles for dealing with others – such is . But it is also the case that each of our relationships is distinctive. No two friends, children, parents, bosses, or lovers are the same. Much like children, we have understandings of how each relationship has unfolded to this point and expectations for how it will continue to develop. Our “working models” for those relationships are often adjusted as we go along. Usually, they include defensive strategies for when things go awry. And we do not always get our way, for other participants have their working models as well.

To be sure, there is much to be said for patterns of trust-based connection. We depend – and should depend – on others. But this is not the only, or perhaps even the major, form of attachment. Other patterns of engagement, each existing in better and worse versions, merit discussion.

This blog has developed the theme that humans express themselves – and connect to one another – in very fundamental ways. Work, play, communitas, and ritual are, at one level, behavior strategies, that is, courses of “action” that all of us commit to. But these forms may also be seen as patterns of “interaction” (forms of interpersonal engagement) or even as patterns of “activity” (that is, long stretches of involvement with frequently well-established operating procedures) (see Henricks, 2012). Commonly, these behavior strategies lead to relationships marked by qualities of advantage and disadvantage.

Sometimes, we experience dominance or “privilege” and play out the meanings of this. Alternately, we experience “subordination.” Relationships may also feature the relatively equal or balanced give-and-take of “engagement.” And, of course, there are the standings of separation or withdrawal – chosen or not – that can be called “marginality.” All this is just a way of saying that each of us operates in relationships at differing levels of commitment and character. We attach and dis-attach from others, and sometimes move from one role to the next during the same encounter.

Communitas as attachment. One common behavior strategy found in attachment theory is what I call communitas. An idealized version of this is the love relationship, a deep and enduring commitment that honors the subjectivity of both parties. Lovers allow others to depend on them, with the knowledge that this orientation is reciprocated. They do not do this simply for selfish, instrumental reasons, in essence, “What can I get out of this?” They do it because they value the other person and relationship itself. The love relationship, and the experience of it, expands the person unintentionally. We are better, stronger people for loving.

More generally, we commune with others – at parties, family gatherings, sports events, concerts, and the like. At such times, it is our pleasure to be in others’ company, to see and hear what they can do. In the festive event, circle, or crowd, we sense – and promote - the relative equality of the affair. We immerse ourselves in these forms and practice acts of , courtesy, and mutual enlivenment. All this is highly valuable, but it is only one style of connection.

Ritual as attachment. A second strategy - and closer to the commitments of the young children described above - is ritual as a support-system for living. Like infants, all of us require “safe havens,” dependable relationships that anchor our forays into the world. Often, this dependence is understood clearly. We willingly rely on a certain idea of God, the vision of our parents at home waiting for us, the anticipation of a familiar chair or television program, our car starting in much the same way each morning. Life is measured in such familiarities, or “coffee-spoons” to use T. S. Eliot’s imagery. We do not mind surrendering our to these objects and practices – or to certain wise or kindly persons who pledge to guide and protect us. Humans need consistency, responsibility, and shelter. Ritual supplies this.

Play as attachment. Still another style of relating, and one that has found favor in the contemporary societies, is play. When we play we connect with others. But those connections are typically of the most fragile, fleeting kind. Commonly, players acknowledge each other as equals and agree jointly on rules for their activity (to this degree, play resembles communitas). But in play individuals cultivate their own interests, enthusiasms, and lines of endeavor. They want to see what they can do to the world – and how it will respond when they prod it. Play stresses creativity, , and the testing of limits. We perform these maneuvers not because we need to or because they will benefit us in the long run but because we want the opportunity to exhilarate in our own powers. Playmates, as the best measures of our own capabilities, grant us this prospect.

Work as attachment. Finally, there is the purposeful sobriety of work. Work too features attachment. We work “on” and “with” objects. Sometimes, we operate with people in the same fashion. Unlike players, workers seek the best – understood now as the most effective and efficient – practices. Usually, this means exhibiting technical control. In ritual, as we’ve seen, those best practices are supplied to us; we adhere to external directives. In work, people seek to impose their own terms on otherness. Against ritual’s acceptance of subordination work emphasizes themes of self-direction, focus, and constant domination.

Both ritual and work are instrumental activities, featuring people’s acknowledgment of personal deficiency or need. However, when we work on objects – or when we work on others (as when we confront an unruly child or lazy colleague) – we try to turn them to our purposes. In sum, workers attach themselves to the world so that they may transform it into what they require.

Plainly then, all of us attach ourselves to others in different ways and with different ends in mind. Other people – like other elements of the world – can be seen as opportunities for companionship (communitias) or for creativity (play). We can bow to others so that our needs are taken care of and so we can be freed for other exploits (ritual). We can turn others to our own purposes, manipulating them convivially or in the sternest ways (work). We do this because we need what (we believe) they hold in store for us. In the better forms of involvement we honor the interests of others and treat them as comrades. In the less laudable forms, we disavow their concerns and commit acts of private pleasuring.

To attach only in the fashion of the small child, or even the ardent lover, is not enough. Attachment fits no single blueprint but is fundamental to all forms of human involvement. For each of us the challenge is to understand that there are many ways of relating to others, to be cognizant of the approaches we adopt, and to comprehend what the implications of those commitments may be.

References

Ainsworth, M. and Bowlby, J. (1991), An ethological approach to personality development. American Psychologist, 46, 331-341.

Brtholomew, K. and Horowitz, L. (1991). Attachment styles among young adults: A test of the four-category model. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 73(6), 226-244.

Henricks, T. (2012). Selves, Societies, and Emotions: Understanding the Pathways of Experience. Boulder, CO: Paradigm.