Tyler Abbott

“Du mußt dein Leben ändern.”

                                    From “Archaïscher Torso Apollos,” by Rainer Maria Rilke

Recently, although I’ve been told it’s been happening for the last 5ish years, the term “high demand has begun to pick up steam as a way to describe religions, movements, organizations, or relationships that are authoritarian, totalistic, abusive, oppressive, dominating, cult-like, etc., etc., etc…. Due to where I live and the dominant culture of the region, I’ve heard it most often applied to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, along with other “strict” religions. However, a quick internet search showed me that it’s use is quite broad, used most often, it seems, by therapists and other mental health professionals.

But why the sudden rise in this term? What’s wrong with all of the synonyms, similar to those I listed in the preceding paragraph, for “high demand?” Instead of saying that a religion is “high demand,” why not say that it’s a cult (or get even more specific because labeling something a cult is a simple way to dismiss the thing without actually confronting it)? Instead of saying that a movement is “high demand,” why not just say that it’s authoritarian? Instead of saying that a family dynamic is “high demand,” why not just say that it’s abusive? Why use a vague catch-all instead of a more exact, descriptive word?

One reason is that too many people, myself included sometimes, are increasingly losing the ability, or energy, to argue intelligently with those with whom they disagree (or so even with those with whom they agree sometimes). To confront and address another person’s firmly held beliefs requires a (demanding) level of articulation, dedication, and critical thought. Unfortunately, many peoples critical thinking muscles have withered away, replaced with the artificial strength of social media hot takes.

You can see this in action with the explosion of terms like “woke” or “fascist” to define those we disagree with politically. If you ask 10 people what a fascist is, you’ll probably get 10 different answers. And if you were to ask 10 more people what it means to be “woke,” then you might just break their brains.

Rather than engaging in intelligent debate with another person, it’s easier to call them a name that can carry any negative connotation we want. You’ve probably heard these before:

“I don’t have to listen to your opinion because you’re a fascist.”

“Everything you say is dumb because you’re woke.”

“You can’t see the truth because you’re brainwashed by your high-demand religion.” (Note the irony in this one.)

It just feels better to make a pithy, dismissive comment that fits into a social media post than actually articulate an argument that stands up to formal criticism.

Which brings me back to the term “high demand.” Not only is it vague and elusive—easily deployed by anyone who wants to lazily criticize another person without putting in any intellectual legwork—but it reveals a deeper truth: we are increasingly a society that deeply fears anything that demands our time and energy.

In 1908, Rainer Maria Rilke published New Poems, which included “Archaïscher Torso Apollos,” or “Archaic Torso of Apollo.” The poem describes his encounter, real or imagined, with an ancient Greek artifact. It’s short enough to be reprinted here:

We cannot know his legendary head
with eyes like ripening fruit. And yet his torso
is still suffused with brilliance from inside,
like a lamp, in which his gaze, now turned to low,

gleams in all its power. Otherwise
the curved breast could not dazzle you so, nor could
a smile run through the placid hips and thighs
to that dark center where procreation flared.

Otherwise this stone would seem defaced
beneath the translucent cascade of the shoulders
and would not glisten like a wild beast’s fur:

would not, from all the borders of itself,
burst like a star: for here there is no place
that does not see you. You must change your life.

The poem is about many things, but ultimately it is about coming into contact with something, in this case a work of art, that is so powerful, so “suffused with brilliance,” that we must change our lives.

In other words, there are forces out there, whether political, religious, artistic, or familial, that are so powerful, and that resonate so deeply with us, that they demand we change who we are to align ourselves with the truth they emit. But what I fear is that, as a society, we are shrinking away from the work required by such demands.

At this point, I should make something clear. I don’t want to be misunderstood as saying that religions, organizations, movements, or relationships that are demanding can’t also be abusive, cult-like, authoritarian, or harmful. In fact, most religions, organizations, movements, etc., that cause harm are most likely “high demand.” But to pick out their demanding nature as the common denominator of their harmfulness is to miss a key truth about life: namely, that anything worthwhile requires a high level of demand on our time, energy, and attention.

Every great achievement demands that we give ourselves over to its fulfillment. Great art often requires that the artist sacrifice and suffer. No masterpiece was ever created by someone who did not dedicate themselves entirely to their craft.

Successful businesses often demand a high amount of dedication from their founders. The tech companies that have altered the world dramatically (for better or worse) weren’t built by part-time dabblers.

Every successful political movement sprung from a highly demanding ideology. The creation of a democratic republic in the United States required a war. The civil rights movement has fundamentally altered the fabric of our society because many individuals dedicated their entire lives to fight for justice. Their commitment to a righteous cause demanded an intense level of dedication.

Even something as “simple” as building a successful family or friendship is often highly demanding. Children are, by their nature, highly demanding creatures. Babies do nothing but demand. Our children eat up our time and attention but not very often we don’t give them away because they’re too “high demand.” Maintaining relationships with friends is typically a “high demand” activity as well. They demand our time and attention, and we demand theirs. If a friend refuses our demands too often, we probably won’t consider them a friend for much longer.

There is nothing worth doing in life that does not make a high demand on our time, attention, and energy. Thus, to deploy the term “high demand” as a catch-all for anything that we deem harmful or taxing is extremely misleading. It means that we’ve begun to equate harm with demand.

At best, this reveals an ignorance of a universal truth. Or worse, it indicates that we no longer want anything to demand too much of us. We see the “archaic torse of Apollo” and rather than heed its call to change, we turn away, craven to the core, scared of anything that pulls us out of our commodified, alienated, and “unique” worldview. We resist to the call to change our lives and conform to something bigger and more meaningful than anything we could achieve on our own.