Chapter 3. The Relationship Model “Hippie”

The Illusion of Freedom: The Trap of Irresponsibility.

1. NAME AND MEANING

Transcription and Etymology: The model takes its name from the Hippie subculture (Eng. hippie), which emerged in the United States in the 1960s. The term was first applied to a group of young people who had gathered under the banner of living free. Their chief desires were: to live wholly for love, to stand against war, and to dodge social responsibility.

If you follow the logic of existential psychology, this is a flight from freedom through the denial of commitments. In the terminology of the Hippie method, it is a model in which a person trades the safety of Lilith and the rebellion of Puttana for the right not to choose.

The roots of the image reach back to the “Hipsters” of the 1940s–50s, jazz musicians and creative types known for their unusually bright clothes. In Greek mythology, its echo can be seen in the figure of Dionysus, the god of wine and revelry, where ecstasy stands in for meaning. Across every culture runs the same stereotype: a person who believes that commitment kills the spirit, and therefore chooses the path of the eternal wanderer.

2. SLOGAN AND BELIEFS

People in the “Hippie” state of mind often broadcast thoughts that become their excuse for inaction. Here are the three core beliefs typical of this model:

“Life is short, you have to live here and now.” (The conviction that planning kills spontaneity.)

“You don’t have to prove anything to anyone.” (Renouncing social ladders and careers in favor of inner comfort.)

“Freedom matters more than security.” (The willingness to sacrifice stability for the feeling of independence.)

3. INFORMATION BLOCK: HISTORY, LITERATURE, AND PSYCHOLOGY

Historical context. In the 1960s, the hippies came out in protest against the US war in Vietnam. What united them was the slogan “To be Hip” (to be in the know, to be peace-loving). Long hair, colorful clothes, a preference for jeans—all of it drew special attention. In their news reports, New York television channels called them “Hippies,” and the name spread quickly through society.

They created communes, lived in communal settlements, gathered like-minded people around them. Faithful to the philosophy of “free love,” they used every means to reach “Nirvana” under the slogan “You have to try everything in life.” In that period, psychedelic substances, LSD above all, became especially popular among this youth.

Known at first as peacelovers, they confronted soldiers under the banner of “Flower Power,” placing flowers on the muzzles of rifles, on soldiers’ helmets, on tanks. That was how they meant to convey the idea that they would win “with the power of flowers.” For this they were called “Flower Children.” In later periods, the Hippie movement came to be associated more and more with rock and roll, entertainment, dancing, and the use of psychedelic substances as spiritual development. Countless meditations, Eastern mysticism, Zen Buddhism, vegetarianism—they kept forming shifting circles and communities.

By the 1970s, society already saw them as young drug addicts living on utopian dreams. Though there are hippies around even today, by the late 1970s the movement had begun to fade, undone by its inability to shoulder social responsibility. Those who lived by Hippie slogans often ran away from home, lived in poverty, drifted into begging and theft, and sooner or later drew the attention of law enforcement. In society, as a result, people with a Hippie mindset are perceived as irresponsible.

Eastern philosophy and the connection to Buddhism. It is no accident that the Hippie movement showed a deep interest in Eastern philosophy and mysticism. The founder of Buddhism, Siddhartha Gautama, was born into a royal family, but from childhood, by his father’s order, he was kept away from every sorrow and sad thought, so that he would grow up without thinking about the suffering of people. At 29, finding himself outside the palace, he became acquainted with the hardships of life in a single day.

The hardships and sufferings of life shook the young Buddha. Realizing that responsibility, family, relatives, health, and wealth are not eternal and will one day vanish, Buddha renounced it all and left the palace. Living an ascetic life, he meditated and, according to tradition, at the end of his life reached the level of “Parinirvana” (complete liberation from conditioned existence), rising from the physical body to the eternal spirit.

This metaphor of transformation spread widely across many Eastern philosophies. As with the hippies, modern social movements do not see family as life’s goal either. Although there are many differences between the philosophy of the Hippie movement and classical Buddhism, their way of life and ultimate aim are still similar, so the hippies can be seen as a kind of modern adaptation of Buddhist philosophy for European society.

The psychological mechanism. A person changes their place of residence, their circle of friends, their way of life. They hitchhike, live in communal apartments, make art with no aim of selling it. At first, this brings a feeling of euphoria. “I’m finally living.” But gradually the resources run dry. Kindred spirits vanish the moment real problems begin.

In terms of defense mechanisms, this is regression. A person returns to a state where nature or fate decides for them. The “Hippie” doesn’t build a future. They consume the present. It can look like a spiritual search, but it often hides a fear of adult life.

Relationships and family. In relationships, one of the factors that creates an impression of unseriousness is difficulty with commitment. This approach can suggest that the person is easily available when it comes to love. Many people therefore keep their relationships with such individuals superficial and never think of building sincere, long-term bonds.

They prefer freedom of feeling in love and refuse to carry any commitments toward emotional bonds. A person with the Hippie mindset, whether man or woman, says: “You have to try everything in life.” They live for the day and build no plans for tomorrow.

If, in their youth, the expenses of someone living under parental care are covered, this Hippie mindset will develop without pause. In adulthood, a person with the Hippie mindset, in family relationships, can turn into someone careless, with no sense of responsibility. The spouse covers all the family’s material needs. And they, in turn, will be off traveling and having fun.

A family built on the Hippie model will be very far from the model of family that society deems acceptable. The Hippie cannot take on a commitment, because it contradicts their mindset. Their life philosophy is freedom and love. And even though they preserve feelings of love in this form, romantic relationships are always short-term. Even if there are friends and admirers, they cannot build loyal, long-term relationships with them.

When a child appears. If people with the Hippie mindset enter into a family relationship, they will keep the same boundary of the freedom position toward both spouse and child. But this often creates deep voids in family relationships. Years later, for a healthy way out of the crisis periods in a family system, there must be some kind of agreement between the people involved.

For example, when a child is born, what binds the couple is no longer just shared desires. The spirit of free love will soon face disharmony. Because the child has interests and desires too, and both must carry a commitment. At this stage of conflicting interests, the Hippie, whether arguing or not, often refuses to budge from their position, relying only on their own desires. Even when they are confronted with their own child, they try to dodge responsibility with various excuses. Usually, in such situations, people with the Hippie mindset withdraw from that environment altogether.

The crisis of the model. Tragedy strikes when winter comes. Literally and figuratively. Freedom does not keep you warm. No plans lead to no results. The person realizes: they are not free of the system. They are simply excluded from it. And exclusion is not the same as freedom.

Even though there are plenty of people around eager to have fun with them, spend time with them, relax with them, in personal relationships they run into the same result again and again. When they see that, faced with serious hardship, they are met not with sacrifice but with refusal (despite the euphoria of the early stage of a relationship), they experience a serious moral shock.

As a result, they conclude that relationships are not that deep on a moral level. As the number of relationships ending in the same outcome grows, they begin to think the root of the problem lies within themselves, and they start searching for a relationship model built on deeper values.

Psychological stress for the Hippie. If, in a family relationship, the “Hippie” relies on someone, and that person, without accepting their life philosophy, leaves them, this leads to psychological upheaval. They realize that their life conviction does not help preserve loyalty in relationships. At this point, the person with the “Hippie” mindset thinks about a choice made for themselves first of all, not for everyone. And already among the people they meet, they make contact with the one who is closest to their moral world.

It is hard to predict which relationship model this shift on the cognitive level will lead to. Given that hedonistic thinking stands at the heart of the Hippie relationship model (that is, the demand for immediate satisfaction of one’s personal desires), the moment of a breakup is considered a favorable one for transitioning to mature thinking.

Even a married Hippie, in a state of shock, may isolate themselves from society for a long time. In that case, the Hippie, trying themselves in different fields, dives fanatically into whatever pursuit they come across and regards it as a free choice. Already at this transitional stage, the likelihood of the next relationship model beginning increases.

4. 5 FAMOUS FIGURES (ARCHETYPES OF THE MODEL)

Historical and cultural figures whose behavior matched the “Hippie” model: escape from responsibility, living in the moment, rejection of social norms.

Christopher McCandless (USA, 20th century).

A traveler who gave up his possessions and went into the Alaskan wilderness.

Manifestation of the model: A classic example of the search for absolute freedom. He burned his money, changed his name, and went into the forest. His journals show the euphoria of solitude, but the ending is tragic. Freedom without preparation became a trap.

John Lennon (Great Britain, 20th century), the 1960s period.

A musician who championed peace and love and the rejection of materialism.

Manifestation of the model: For a certain period, his life was devoted to happenings, experiments, and the rejection of convention. It was a search for meaning through defying the system, though later he transformed it into activism.

Siddhartha Gautama (the Buddha) (India, 6th century BCE).

A prince who abandoned his palace in search of truth.

Manifestation of the model: Although this is a spiritual example, his renunciation of wealth, family, and status in favor of an ascetic life and meditation reflects the philosophy of the Hippie: the search for eternal values through the rejection of the material.

The heroes of Jack Kerouac’s works (Literary archetype).

Characters of the Beat Generation, running from society.

Manifestation of the model: Heroes for whom the road became home. They sought truth in movement, avoiding settling down and commitments.

Today’s “Digital Nomads” (Social archetype).

People who work remotely and constantly change their country of residence.

Manifestation of the model: A modern adaptation of the Hippie—freedom from geography and the office, but often with the same problem: an inability to build long-term bonds and carry commitments to a place or a community.

5. EXITING THE MODEL (DEPRESSIVE AND AGGRESSIVE)

Exits from the crisis and transitions. Through this search they discover values that morally guide long-term relationships: family, religion, and national values. Based on the chosen values, the core logic of the next relationship model is tied to that choice. A person may run into the cold of reality. When the euphoria of freedom fades, the crisis begins.

The depressive exit: The person realizes: “I am free, but I am alone and hungry.” The Hippie begins to look for someone who will secure their freedom. This is the transition to the Beggar model or the Infanta. If they pass through the depressive phase in relationships, they may move on to Lilith (with priority given to material values).

The aggressive exit: The person is angry at the world for failing to grasp their lofty matters. They may slide into radicalism. Or, having accepted reality, they begin to monetize their freedom (blogs, creative work), moving on to the Geisha model.

If they choose family values, they move to the Chameleon; if religious or national ones, to Teresa or Cinderella.

6. MARIA’S STORY. THE PATH OF “HIPPIE”

The train ran all night and in the morning stopped at a station whose name had half worn off the sign. Maria stepped onto the platform with her bag over her shoulder. There were no high-rises around her and no billboards, only mountains in the fog and the smell of pine needles and wet earth, and she breathed in so deeply that she felt a stitch in her side.

“There’s no Rafael here,” she thought. “No mirrors. Nobody will grade me.”

She found shelter that same day. The locals called the old two-story house at the edge of the village “the Community,” with a smirk she came to understand much later. Its residents were runaways like her: one hiding from debts, one from a wife, one from himself. Curtains hung in the doorways instead of locks, the sun stood in for a schedule, and nobody here asked about the past. Maria took this for tact and only later saw that nobody here cared about anybody.

For the first three months she lived the way you do after a long illness, when it is joy enough that nothing hurts. She woke with the light, ate when she was hungry, helped in the kitchen, gathered thyme on the hillside with the other women, and in the evenings sat by the fire, where somebody always played guitar. One morning she caught herself singing as she hung out the laundry, and stopped, clothespin in hand, because she hadn’t sung, it seemed, since school. Her phone lay switched off at the bottom of her bag. Once a month she turned it on, saw the messages from her mother and Nina, and turned it off again unanswered: explaining where she was and why would have meant answering to someone again.

“Nobody owes anybody anything,” a bearded man everyone called the Philosopher liked to say by the fire. “That’s all freedom is.”

Maria would nod. After Rafael, after all those strangers’ eyes in her phone, the words worked on her like medicine. “I’m not a thing, and I’m not a weapon,” she thought, looking up at stars you never see in the city. “I’m just living. Why think about tomorrow when today is warm?”

That is exactly how a person in the Hippie model reasons: they mistake the absence of obligations for freedom, and the peace of a single evening for the meaning of an entire life.

That same spring David appeared at the gate. He lived across the road, ran a carpentry shop in a shed, and looked at “the Community” without judgment, the way you look at summer people. Noticing the leak above her room, he offered to redo that corner of the roof before the rains.

Maria asked, “How much will I owe you?”

“Nothing.”

“Then no, thanks.”

She feared what was free more than what had a price: for free things, as she had already learned, you pay with yourself. David shrugged and left, and she put a basin under the leak and was as proud of that basin as people are of their independence.

By the sixth month the joy had begun to drain away, slowly, like water from a cracked bathtub. Her sneakers wore out, and she couldn’t buy new ones, because the envelope money had run out back in the summer. The people she shared the fire and the wine with disappeared the moment anyone ran into real trouble.

In September her roommate took to her bed, a quiet red-haired girl who sometimes cried into her pillow at night and about whom Maria had learned nothing in half a year. For three days the girl lay behind the curtain with a fever, and for three days the house went on as usual. On the fourth morning everyone set off for the river, and Maria, after standing at the curtain and listening to the heavy breathing, went too. She told herself that she was no doctor, that a sick person needs rest, and that nobody owes anybody anything. When they came back, the bed was empty: David, sent for by the woman who kept the shop, had driven her to the hospital.

That evening by the fire nobody spoke of it. Maria sat with the rest, listened to the guitar, and felt the words that had healed her for half a year begin to taste bitter. What held these people together was a shared pleasure in warm evenings and nothing more, and she herself had turned out no better than the others, though she wasn’t yet ready to say so to herself outright.

The roommate never came back to “the Community.” The Philosopher left next, without saying goodbye and without paying what he owed at the shop. By winter there were six people left in the house.

Winter came all at once, on a wind from the pass. Nobody had laid in firewood, because laying in firewood meant thinking about tomorrow, and that wasn’t done here. They burned whatever they could find, and then they stopped. Maria slept in her jacket under the only quilt, and in the mornings it took her a long time to straighten her fingers.

She went down to the little town in the valley to look for work. In the first office a woman at a desk read her application for a long time.

“And what were you doing this past year?”

“Living,” Maria said.

“I see,” said the woman, and put the sheet on the right-hand pile, the one, Maria guessed, nobody gets called back from.

She heard that “I see” four more times that week. What she had been proud of looked from the outside like a blank in a form, and what that blank had meant to her she could no longer explain even to herself.

Back at the house she turned on her phone. It charged from the one working outlet and showed that in two months nobody had written to her. Her mother had gone silent in the fall, and the last thing from Nina was “Are you at least alive?” So this, it turned out, was what the silence she had come here for looked like.

That evening David came to the gate. He had aged over the year, or else she was seeing him properly for the first time: a weathered face, heavy hands, a cardboard box held against his stomach. In the box were buckwheat, cooking oil, tea, and a jar of honey.

Maria watched him through the frosted glass and didn’t open the door. Taking the box meant admitting that the year had been wasted and that the freedom she prized so much couldn’t even heat a room. “Don’t take it,” said her pride. “You don’t owe anyone anything.” Her fingers were already pulling back the bolt on their own.

“Come in,” she said. “Just tea. Nothing more.”

“I wasn’t counting on anything more,” he answered gravely, and she smiled for the first time in many weeks.

He brought scrap boards over from his shop and got the stove going. They drank their tea in silence. David warmed his hands on the mug and asked nothing, and because he didn’t ask, she suddenly wanted to tell him. She talked for a long time, stumbling and jumping around: about the bracelet, the restaurant, the boy with the splashed cheek, the mother she had hung up on, the red-haired roommate she had never gone in to see. At the part about the roommate she started to cry, angrily and unbecomingly, wiping her face on her jacket sleeve.

“She got better,” David said. “She went to live with her sister.”

After a pause he added:

“You ought to write all this down. You tell it well.”

Almost a year earlier she would have called his help a trap. Now it was simply warmth, and it amazed her that you could, as it turned out, accept warmth and not end up sold.

“I was running from every kind of obligation,” she thought after he had gone, looking at the boards he had left by the stove. “Only that wears you out too, and how.”

Sleep wouldn’t come. She lay listening to the stove crackle and found no joy in herself, only tiredness, yet in that tiredness there was now something solid, something she could lean on. In the morning she wrote her mother two words, “I’m alive,” and asked David for a notebook.