Erik Erikson: On Integrity and Despair…In Our Time
© Howard Gardner March 2025
As a college undergraduate, I was fortunate to be a student—and eventually a tutee—of Erik H. Erikson—the Danish-German psychoanalyst who spent his sixties teaching at Harvard…in the 1960s. Erikson taught and wrote about many topics—but if you mention his name to individuals of my generation, they are most likely to remember the eight stages of human development, which all who live to the biblical age of 70 or more are destined to experience.
Each stage is marked by a tension between opposing tendencies. During adolescence and early adulthood—Stage 5, the stage of greatest interest to college students!—there’s a tension between identity formation, on the one hand, and identity (or role) diffusion, on the other. If things go well, the person aged 20 or so solidifies who she is, what she is like, to what she inspires, and how she presents herself to the world. In contrast, if things do not go well, the individual is plagued by uncertainty with respect to who he is, how he feels, what he wants to become, and how he is perceived by others.
For the record (and to prompt aging memories), these are the stages:
Infancy: Trust vs. Mistrust
First years of life: Autonomy vs. Shame
Beginning of formal education: Initiative vs. Guilt
Middle childhood and the start of adolescence: Industry vs. Inferiority
Adolescence: Identity vs. Role Diffusion
Early adult years: Intimacy vs. Isolation
Midlife: Creativity vs. Stagnation
Final Phase: Integrity vs. Despair
The other day, I was reflecting on my own life. I’ve been very fortunate—as far as I can ascertain, I’ve navigated most of these stages adequately. I have no major regrets about any of the antinomies. (I hope this is not smugness—or denial—on my part!)
Now that I’ve reached an old age—and well into my ninth decade, I am clearly at that point in life—I can say that on most criteria, and whether or not deserved, my life has been blessed. I’ve been able to achieve pretty much what I hoped to achieve, I hope that I have done some good for others in the world, and I can still try to repair or compensate for individuals I’ve hurt or for situations that I’ve mishandled. Indeed, our research group’s studies and recommendations re: “good work” and “good citizenship” represent efforts to leave the world at least a little better than we’ve found it. (Learn more about The Good Project here.)
Yet, upon reflection, I realized that Erikson’s formulation—as I remember and understood it—leaves out an important ingredient. Put succinctly, even bluntly, it does not acknowledge this possibility: an individual who feels personally integrated and at peace with himself, his work, and his family can at the same time be filled with despair. This state of mind, of being, looms large as he contemplates the way that much of the rest of the world—neighbors as well as individuals who live far away; nations that are nearby, and those that are far away—may be marked by despair, and with ample reason for that regrettable state of mind and heart.
In short, my inner perspective is reasonably integrated; my external outlook is filled with despair.
If I were younger, and had the requisite skill and motivation, I could direct all of my energies—my identity, my intimate relations, my creativity—toward making things better for others. And to the extent that I have remaining energies, that is what I should strive/stretch to do. But realistically, I don’t have those energies. To paraphrase the poet Andrew Marvell, I don’t have “world enough and time” to make a significant positive impact with respect to what lies ahead.
With the benefit of hindsight, I now realize that Erikson’s work on the life stages—and my generations’ understanding of it—is rooted too much in ego, I, me. And perhaps that’s one reason why my colleagues and I have launched a study of how very young children—still navigating the stages of trust, autonomy, and initiative—can begin to think not just about themselves, but about those around them, and how they can work synergistically with them to achieve positive ends. We call the project Good Starts—but my own nickname for the project (as a protest against egocentrism, American-style) is the “Wee/We Project.”
In closing, two lines of fairness to Erik Erikson, my beloved mentor.
Joan Erikson (1995)
While Erikson himself did not discuss life beyond the eight stages, his wife and long-time collaborator Joan Erikson did. She revisited what happens to most individuals who live a long life. As she put it, “Old age in one’s eighties and nineties brings with it new demands, reevaluations, and daily difficulties.” And she pointed out that all eight stages of development are relevant in old age: because each of them recurs in a less mature form. So, for example, basic trust is revisited because elder individuals no longer can trust their own capabilities. By the same token, the intimate relations of old age can be replaced by isolation and deprivation.
In much of his work, Erik Erikson was highly cognizant of how one’s beliefs and actions relate to the wider world—and how events in the world in turn affect the individual. Consider his penetrating biographical studies of Martin Luther and of Mahatma Gandhi, and his insightful portraits of youth growing up in Germany, Russia, and the Indian tribes of the American Southwest. But for better or worse, most scholars in the social sciences are remembered chiefly in terms of the typologies that they created. And so, I hope I am forgiven for this “editing” or “reformulation” of the work for which my teacher Erik Erikson is justifiably remembered.
Letter from Erik Erikson to Howard Gardner (1986)
Acknowledgements
For their comments on earlier drafts, I thank Shinri Furuzawa, Annie Stachura, and Ellen Winner.
References
Erikson, E. (1963). Childhood and society. Norton.
Erikson, E. (1958). Young man Luther. Norton.
Erikson, E. (1969). Gandhi’s truth. Norton.
Erikson, J. (1998). The life-cycle completed: extended version. Norton.
