“…philosophers and theologians through the centuries have observed…a strong connection between unbearable earthly sorrow and spiritual enlightenment…”

Martha Stout

“I write stories.  Mostly about girls, mostly about strength. About family, and pain, and responsibility. And the Getting of Strength.”

 Joss Whedon

In 1994, DID replaced MPD in the APA’s DSM IV.  That is, “dissociative identity disorder” replaced “multiple personality disorder” in the American Psychiatric Association’s Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders IV.  Below, I discuss the moral significance of the rechristening of this form of psychopathology in light of Joss Whedon’s saga, Buffy the Vampire Slayer.  This interdisciplinary foray is part of a larger project of articulating a philosophical concept of the soul that is responsive to recent developments in science and art.  An examination of the relationship between suffering and strength in the Buffyverse can help us better understand DID and vice versa.  An examination of the transformation of MPD into DID as a clinical diagnosis can help us better understand the role played by the soul in BtVS.

DID is thought to be caused by experiences of profound trauma.  Scientific studies of the brain suggest that intense suffering is not processed in the same way as ordinary events at the neurological level.  In particular, our most intense sorrows resist being translated readily into language.  As a result, memories of such events may not get integrated into narrative accounts of one’s personal identity.  When integration fails, our identities become fragmented, or dissociated.  BtVS is a television series whose characters suffer repeated trauma.  They not only survive but also grow stronger from one season to the next.  This story arc is plausible, despite what we know about the frailty of human selves as narrative constructs, because of the distinction the series makes between our souls and our selves.  Unlike selves, souls are not narrative constructs or by-products of memory.  Unlike bodies, souls are not material things, though they can be seen when they occupy specific space-time locations within living bodies (and other “mystical” containers).  For Whedon, souls may be light or dark, lost or found, but they are not breakable.  Souls direct our moral behavior and are the salient difference between humans, who have them, and vampires, who do not (except in special cases).  His characters vividly portray what Stout, a clinical psychologist and DID expert, notes: “… just as it is more than possible to operate in the world with a single, constant identity while evincing no notion of accountability at all [i.e., most vampires], it is possible to have a deeply bewildering identity disorder that exists simultaneously with a committed sense of responsibility [i.e., many humans]” (p. 156).  Buffy is not particularly sane, but she is incredibly strong.  Her sanity waxes and wanes in response to the horror she endures.  But the light of her soul shines ever brighter as she renews her commitment to relieving the suffering of others.  When it comes to surviving a scary world, story-tellers, scientists, and philosophers can agree:  It’s more important to ask, “what can I do to make things better?” than it is to gaze inward and construct consistent and constant answers to the question, “who am I?”  Why?  Because there may not be any enduring answers to the question, “who am I?”  The DSM and related texts, including our personal narrative histories, are destined to endless revision.  And, “…if there isn’t any bigger meaning, then the smallest act of kindness is the greatest thing in the world” (Angel, “Epiphany”).