Hell Isn't Other People--Hell Is Ourselves: The shadow selves of Inez, Garcin and Estelle
For Carl Jung, “the shadow is a moral problem that challenges the whole ego-personality, for no one can become conscious of the shadow without considerable moral effort”. The shadow is the part of ourselves we repress, that we wish to not have see the light of day, and this poses a special dilemma as problems tend not to go away unless you fix them. The shadow, once repressed, can only do harm, and in coming to terms with the shadow self and learning to embrace it, it can be brought to the surface and dealt with effectively.
The repressed nature of the shadow self, and the refusal to come to terms with it, serves as one of the main methods of torture for the inmates locked in a room in Hell together for eternity in Jean-Paul Sartre’s play No Exit. The acts of not accepting the shadows, the growing pains of recognizing the existence of the shadow selves, and the frustration of being around others who refuse to come to terms with their dark sides are all means by which our characters are tormented en lieu of the traditional torture devices one typically pictures inmates of Hell would face.
The shadow is “the negative side of the personality”, which we can see Inez has a firm grasp of, Garcin struggles with, and Estelle refuses to believe she possesses at all. Of the three, Inez is the most in touch with her own darkness, but a good portion of Inez’s torment comes from trying to help Garcin and Estelle recognize their own dark sides. Garcin has a sense of his own cowardliness, which wanes and waxes over the course of the play, and is subject to a degree of torture by the suspicion that it is there and the refusal to fully acknowledge that it is. Estelle stubbornly refuses to acknowledge her shadow, and in doing so, refuses to help Garcin acknowledge the existence of his own and holds him back from making progress on that front, contributing to avoidable torment for both of them.
The funny thing about the shadow—especially compared to the other parts of the unconscious, which Jung calls the anima and animus—is that the shadow, relatively speaking, is fairly easy to identify. This speaks further to the level of immorality that plagues these characters—the work necessary to uncover their shadow selves is not particularly difficult work, but they lack the moral character to undergo that process. “With a little self-criticism one can see through the shadow—so far as its nature is personal”. Estelle is entirely incapable of engaging in any self-criticism, through her extreme narcissism, and Garcin’s cowardly nature results in his being too afraid to properly engage in such self-criticism. Accepting the shadow, Jung says, goes as follows:
To become conscious of it involves recognizing the dark aspects of the personality as present and real. This act is the essential condition for any kind of self-knowledge, and it therefore, as a rule, meets with considerable resistance. Indeed, self-knowledge as a psychotherapeutic measure frequently requires much painstaking work extending over a long period.
In this sense, we can see that Inez is actually a perfect embodiment of one who accepts her shadows.
Inez is fully aware of what kind of person she actually is, and she’s fully aware of what she did that was sufficiently evil to land her an eternity in Hell:
When I say I’m cruel, I mean I can’t get on without making people suffer. Like a live coal. A live coal in others’ hearts. When I’m alone I flicker out. For six months I flamed away in her heart, till there was nothing but a cinder. One night she got up and turned on the gas while I was asleep. Then she crept back into bed. So now you know.
She is, quite simply, a cruel person who toyed with the emotions of others, who holds no pretensions about being any kind of saint. This does not make her necessarily any better than the other two—her evil deeds are not lessened by her own recognition of it. But because she has acknowledged her shadow self, her torments in hell will be lesser than those of her unwilling companions.
Estelle nicely embodies another one Jung’s statements about the nature of the shadow:
“It is often tragic to see how blatantly a man bungles his own life and the lives of others yet remains totally incapable of seeing how much the tragedy originates in himself, and how he continually feeds it and keeps it going. Not consciously, of course—for consciously he is engaged in bewailing and cursing a faithless world that recedes further and further into the distance. Rather, it is an unconscious factor which spins the illusions that veil his world. And what is being spun is a cocoon, which in the end will completely envelop him.” (147)
Estelle’s narcissism is so engrained into her that she scarcely recognizes herself as one who embodies some pretty nasty vices, pretending at first to not even know why she was in hell. Inez and Garcin, however, figure her out quickly. The others can see through her more readily than she is wanting them too, discovering almost immediately why she is there based on her fear of a man with a disfigured face. They figured this man attempted suicide on her behalf, and shot himself. She becomes extremely distressed after this revelation is made, and we learn she can barely even admit the fact to herself that she murdered her own baby, prompting the suicide of the man she was cheating on her husband for. Her inability to take responsibility for her own circumstances is a clear byproduct of her repressed shadow self.
Estelle is blatantly obsessed with herself on a surface level, and a surface level only, refusing to believe there is anything to her beyond her appearance; and so one of the ways in which she is tortured is that she is not permitted to have a sense of her physical self anymore, which ideally ought to push her farther towards having to embrace her shadow. Upon arriving in the room where she is to spend eternity, Estelle becomes quickly dismayed by the fact there are no mirrors present. She is expected to reflect on the deeper parts of herself, but becomes desperate to bury her fears in the reassurance of her physical beauty, as demonstrated by the scene in which Inez attempts to comfort her by acting as her ‘mirror.’ Estelle’s fragile sense of self is revealed when she has a vision of herself on Earth, and realizes that not only does she have no mirror in Hell, but she cannot see herself in mirrors on Earth as well:
“I can see them. But they don’t see me. They’re reflecting the carpet, the settee, the window—but how empty it is, a glass in which I’m absent! When I talked to people I always made sure there was one near by in which I could see myself. I watched myself talking. And somehow it kept me alert, seeing myself as the others saw me…”
On some level, the loss of her preferred sense of self is likely causing Estelle to begin coming to terms with her shadow. Estelle is so horrified by this process, however, that she doubles down on her efforts to seclude her true self from the others. In the scene in which Inez acts as her mirror, Estelle becomes distressed by having somebody scrutinize her so carefully, as Inez is likely seeing Estelle in such a way she has never seen herself before. Desperate to reaffirm her sense of her own beauty in the last way she can, Estelle turns to attempting to seduce Garcin, the only man around, so that she can escape having to face the parts of herself that do not relate to her appearance. In doing this, she wishes to regain control over the way in which others see her, by forcing Garcin to find her attractive, as she lost control over how she is perceived when Inez glanced into her face so deeply.
The fact of our characters’ eyes being open all the time is surely significant as well. With the act of being closed off to yourself serving as a torture method, there is some profound irony to be found in the fact that they are being forced into this state of complete transparency towards one another. They quite literally cannot hide any part of themselves from each other, which perhaps would expedite the process of not being able to hide parts of themselves from themselves any longer. Garcin appears to be the most distressed by this revelation: “With one’s eyes open. Forever. Always broad daylight in my eyes—and in my head.” His distress is probably linked to the fact that, unlike Estelle, he has a sense that a darker side of him exists, but unlike Inez, he is not fully ready to open up to it yet. His inability to close his eyes, and the sense of transparency this brings about, is especially significant to him because he realizes that all his secrets are about to be let out into the open.
Garcin’s predicament is perhaps the most interesting of the three because of how he flips and flops between the two poles of attempting to uncover his shadow self and be like Inez, and attempting to bury his shadow self even further like Estelle. He is dimly aware of his own cowardliness—the cowardliness that got him killed and, along with cheating on his wife, contributed to his damnation in Hell—and alternately tries to come to terms with it and convince himself that he is not one.While trying to be more like Inez, he declares:
“A thousand of them are proclaiming I’m a coward; but what do numbers matter? If there’s someone, just one person, to say quite positively I did not run away, that I’m not the sort who runs away, that I’m brave and decent and the rest of it—well, that one person’s faith would save me. Will you have that faith in me? Then I shall love you and cherish you for ever.”
Garcin at this point is the closest he will come to recognizing that he needs to bring his shadow self to the surface, so it can be properly dealt with, and requests that Inez help him recognize this part of himself so he can begin the process of reconciling it: “The curtain’s down, nothing of me is left on earth—not even the name of coward. So, Inez, we’re alone. Only you two remain to give a thought to me. She—she doesn’t count. It’s you who matter; you who hate me. If you’ll have faith in me I’m saved”. Inez, the only one who sees through everybody, has to help him see through himself. The revelation of cowardliness is a particularly difficult one for Garcin, who “aimed at being a real man. A tough, as they say. I staked everything on the same horse… Can one possibly be a coward when one’s deliberately courted danger at every turn? And can one judge a life by a single action?” (44). The discovery Garcin has to make here, is that the answer is yes—he could still be a coward.
The progress Garcin made was enough to excite the reader, but alas, as the play draws to a close, he buries himself in Estelle’s arms, as she seeks confirmation of her own beauty that his attention can provide her with, and she reassures him he is not a coward, undoing the difficult work of discovering the shadow self he had tried to begin. In the end, him and Estelle decide to succumb to their vices together, instead of confronting them, and subsequently, as the shadow selves are more repressed, they will find inevitably find themselves in much deeper misery they could have avoided. Inez mocks the scene, as Estelle and Garcin suppress themselves in affection for one another:
“What a lovely scene: coward Garcin holding baby-killer Estelle in his manly arms! Make your stakes, everyone. Will coward Garcin kiss the lady, or won’t he dare? What’s the betting? I’m watching you, everybody’s watching, I’m a crowd all by myself. Do you hear the crowd? Do you hear them muttering, Garcin? Mumbling and muttering. “Coward! Coward! Coward! Coward!”—that’s what they’re saying…. It’s no use trying to escape, I’ll never let you go. What do you hope to get from her silly lips? Forgetfulness? But I shan’t forget you, not I! “It’s I you must convince.” So come to me. I’m waiting. Come along, now… Look how obedient he is, like a well-trained dog who comes when his mistress calls. You can’t hold him, and you never will.” (46)
While the three are there to torture each other, Inez is rendered a special kind of torturer because both Estelle and Garcin find her ability to see the darkness in everybody absolutely repellant. While they are still playing games and lying about the way they are, and trying to project different versions of themselves onto the scene, Inez asserts that she sees their shadow selves—she sees Garcin’s cowardliness that Estelle is claiming she does not see, and she sees Estelle’s shallowness that Garcin is refusing to see, because he is so desperate to not be seen as cowardly. And so, although Inez recognizes the shadows, she is tortured by being the one who can see them.
Garcin drives home this point about Inez when he says,
“And you know what wickedness is, and shame, and fear. There were days when you peered into yourself, into the secret places of your heart, and what you saw there made you faint with horror. And then, next day, you didn’t know what to make of it, you couldn’t interpret the horror you had glimpsed the day before. Yes, you know what evil costs. And when you say I’m a coward, you know from experience what that means. Is that so?”
Inez knows evil, and fully understands what it means. She does not try to run and hide from it, or pretend to be less involved with it than she actually is. She sees, knows and embraces her shadows. While clearly she is not troubled with the same amount of inner turmoil as the others, she is differently tortured with the realization that she alone carries the burden of being the only one who truly knows why they are all there, and faces the distress of knowing that she cannot really do anything to help Estelle and Garcin come to terms with their true selves.
From this, we can see that No Exit provides us with fascinating grounds for discussion of Jung’s conception of the shadow self, because of the various ways in which both recognizing it, and not recognizing it, can bring us suffering. The shadow self is inherently the part of ourselves that tortures us, and from this, we can also see just how painful and messy the process of trying to reconcile one’s shadow self can be as well. Works Cited
Jung, Carl. “The Shadow.” The Portable Jung. Edited by Joseph Campbell. (Markham, Ontario: Penguin Books, 1971).
Sartre, Jean-Paul. “No Exit.” No Exit and Three Other Plays. Translated by Stuart Gilbert. (New York: Vintage Books, 1955).










