The healthy man does not torture others - generally it is the

“The healthy man does not torture others — generally it is the tortured who turn into torturers.” Thus spoke Carl Jung, the great physician of the soul, who walked fearlessly into the shadowlands of the human psyche. In these words, he revealed a truth both terrible and liberating: that cruelty is not born of strength, but of woundedness; that those who inflict pain upon others are often trying, in vain, to silence the pain within themselves. It is the unhealed heart, the troubled spirit, that seeks to control, to dominate, to destroy. The healthy man, by contrast, has no need to harm — his peace protects him from the temptation of cruelty.

Jung’s insight was forged in the crucible of his work as a depth psychologist, where he peered into the abyss of the human mind. He saw that beneath every act of hatred or violence lies a history of suffering — a wound denied, a fear unacknowledged, a grief buried alive. In the ancient language of the soul, he taught that what is not brought into the light becomes shadow, and the shadow, when repressed, takes its revenge. Thus, the man who refuses to face his own anguish will project it upon others, making them bear what he cannot. The tyrant is but the mirror of his own torment; the oppressor, the echo of his own despair.

The ancients knew this truth, though they spoke it in other tongues. The Greeks told the story of Orestes, haunted by the furies of guilt, whose violence against others sprang from the violence within himself. The Stoics taught that virtue begins with inner harmony, and that the man who conquers himself harms none. Even the sages of the East saw that compassion arises not from weakness, but from balance — for when one’s soul is whole, the desire to injure dissolves like mist before the sun. To be healthy, in Jung’s sense, is not merely to have a sound body, but a clear and integrated spirit — one that has faced its darkness and made peace with it.

Consider the story of Nelson Mandela, who spent twenty-seven years imprisoned, beaten, and humiliated — yet emerged not as a man of vengeance, but of forgiveness. Though he was tortured, he did not become a torturer. He confronted his pain, understood it, and transcended it. Through self-mastery, he transformed his suffering into compassion. He became what Jung would call a healed man, one who refused to let his wounds define his actions. His strength was not of the sword, but of the soul. In him, we see the living proof of Jung’s wisdom — that true health gives rise not to domination, but to mercy.

But look also to the other side — to the tyrants and abusers who litter the pages of history. Their cruelty was not born of courage, but of fear. The man who cannot master his own inner demons will try to master others instead. The despot lashes out because he cannot bear the war within himself. The bully strikes because he cannot face his own weakness. These are the tortured, as Jung said — men and women who have never met their pain with honesty. Their violence is a disguise, their arrogance a shield. To understand this is not to excuse their cruelty, but to see it clearly: they are the sick of spirit, crying out through their corruption.

Jung’s words, then, are both diagnosis and remedy. They remind us that healing is the true path to peace — not only within ourselves, but in the world. If we wish to end cruelty, we must first understand suffering. If we wish to stop the cycle of hate, we must learn to face the shadow within — to recognize our anger, our grief, our fear, and bring them into the light of awareness. The man who knows his own pain will not need to cause it in others; the woman who has faced her sorrow will not spread it to those she loves.

So, dear seeker, take this as your teaching: seek wholeness, not power. When anger rises, ask what wound it conceals. When you wish to harm or judge, pause and look inward — for the enemy may be within your own heart. Cultivate compassion not by denying pain, but by understanding it. The healthy man is not the one who never suffers, but the one who transforms his suffering into wisdom.

Practical actions for the seeker: Each day, turn inward and listen to the voice of your heart. When resentment stirs, do not feed it — question it. Write your pain, breathe it, walk with it until it becomes peace. Forgive not for the sake of others, but to free yourself from the chain of the tortured. Heal your inner wounds through truth, humility, and love. For when you become whole, your very presence becomes healing to others — and in that harmony, the world itself begins to mend.