GOATs. Greatest Of All Time. GOATs. Greatest of All Time. They don’t earn that crown by staying safe, smiling pretty, or hiding behind masks. They earn it by tearing those masks off, staring their demons in the eye, and asking the question most artists run from: “Who the hell am I?”
That’s one of the things that BTS was trying to communicate in Map of the Soul, in order to fulfill their artistry, they had to reintegrate their shadow, what Carl Jung described to be the undesirable parts of ourselves, often perceived to be evil.
When RM wrote to ARMY last week, asking them to reflect on the meaning of ‘self,’ it struck me how deeply this question echoes Jungian psychology. His words pulled me back to BTS’s Map of the Soul era—a body of work that wrestled with the very same ideas.
In this article, we will examine 4 major things:
- Why BTS used biblical characters in their MVs,
- The concept of reintegrating the things they thought they had to give up in order become the best artists they could be,
- Why being good or moral is just a manifestation of cowardice, and
- Do you ever become whole as a person?
What We Already Know
Map of the Soul: Persona and Map of the Soul: 7 were based on Jungian Psychology, specifically the psyche.
- RM’s intro titled PERSONA is the social mask an individual presents to the world, which is distinct from their true self.
- Suga’s interlude Shadow is the fears, ambitions, and darker impulses we try to repress.
- J-Hope’s Ego is the part of the psyche that is aware of itself and the outside world, functioning as the center of conscious experience.
Probably the second most popular application of Jungian Psychology in Map Of The Soul is the creation of 2 Music Videos for each song. Black Swan and On had 2 music videos each, one represents the outer self and the other the inner self.
If you haven’t seen an analysis on these two songs with their MVs in relation to Jungian Psychology and other literary references, let me know.
Jung & The Bible
‘On’ and ‘Interlude: Shadow’ were filled with biblical references. It isn’t a surprise. Jung was asked if he believed in God and he said, “I don’t believe. I know.”
He said he personally experienced the reality of God as an inner presence in dreams and visions (especially recorded in The Red Book). He didn’t try to prove God scientifically though. He treated God as a psychic fact — something the unconscious produces that feels more powerful than the ego.
Jung often equated encounters with God to encounters with the unconscious Self.
Like myths and fairy tales, he believed biblical characters contained universal symbols (archetypes) that reflect deep psychic truths. Here are some references Jung made and BTS used:
- JUNGKOOK as Elijah: In Jung’s visionary journal, The Red Book, Elijah appears as a guide figure. Jung experiences Elijah as a kind of inner prophet, a voice of deep unconscious wisdom.
- V as Christ: Jung saw Jesus as the living symbol of the Self — the archetype of wholeness, the union of human and divine, conscious and unconscious.
- JIMIN as David: For Jung, King David illustrates the paradox of the archetype: he is both chosen by God and deeply flawed. This fits Jung’s view that archetypes always include light and shadow.
- RM as Noah. The ark represents the containing principle of the psyche — a vessel of safety carrying the seeds of future life through chaos.
- SUGA as Aaron. Jung interpreted figures like Aaron as archetypes of the mediator — one who stands between the divine and human – the function that helps the ego relate to overwhelming unconscious forces.
- JIN as the people of Israel. In Leviticus, doves or pigeons could be offered by the poor as a substitute for a lamb. For Jung, this reinforced the idea that archetypal rituals must be accessible to everyone — rich or poor, powerful or weak.
- J-HOPE as the angel that guided Elijah. The angel feeding Elijah represents an inner psychic force of renewal that appears spontaneously in dreams, visions, or crises.
The integration of the Self is what BTS ultimately seeks: a long-term vision of authenticity, legacy, and a message of love and hope — symbolized by Jin releasing the dove, Elijah hearing the whisper, and the emergence of the true Self after chaos and struggle.
Suga Embraces the Shadow
In Suga’s music video, the references go deeper than ambition or stardom. One striking parallel comes from the book of Exodus. The Israelites were commanded to mark their doorframes with the blood of a lamb so that the angel of death would pass over their homes during the final plague in Egypt. It was a stark symbol: be good or die.
And in many Western frameworks, becoming your “best self” often means burning away flaws, weaknesses, or so-called monsters—a phoenix-like purification where only the “pure” parts of you remain.
Jung’s vision turns that logic on its head. He argued that wholeness requires reintegration of the shadow, not its destruction. The goal is not to release it recklessly, but to discipline and redirect it into something meaningful. Great figures illustrate this: Michael Jordan channeled his raw aggression and obsession with winning into athletic mastery. Albert Einstein refused to suppress his eccentric, “crazy” ideas, nurturing them until they reshaped how we understand the universe.
Suga’s video mirrors this philosophy. Early in the song, he frames his hunger for wealth and fame—“I want to be rich, I want to be a rock star”—as the voice of his shadow. It’s greed, ambition, desire: the monster within. But by the end, instead of renouncing those impulses, he sings those very lines again—this time with acceptance. He isn’t purging his shadow; he’s embracing it.
One of the most symbolic scenes occurs in the hallway sequence, where doors slam shut as he walks. The imagery is layered. On one level, it suggests that by embracing his shadow, Suga shields not only himself but those around him—just as the blood on Israelite doorframes once marked protection from death. Yet there’s a darker reading too: he is not only the protected but also the plague, the one who harms. He is both victim and executioner, savior and threat.
This duality culminates in the final confrontation with himself: Suga on stage, facing another version of Suga in the crowd. The message is clear—if the shadow remains unacknowledged, it doesn’t vanish; it festers, capable of destroying both self and others. But if it’s integrated, disciplined, and channeled, it becomes the very force that drives greatness.
For Jung, and for Suga in this video, wholeness is not about erasing the monster. It’s about recognizing it, harnessing it, and turning it into art.
Morality is Cowardice
When you cut off the “bad” parts of yourself — like aggression — you don’t just get rid of the worst, you also block yourself from ever reaching your best. Why? Because real strength, real goodness, requires the ability to fight when you need to. If you’ve denied that part of yourself, you can’t say a true “no,” can’t stand unshaken, can’t play at the highest stakes.
You are taking away the choice. Knowing you can do something bad but chooses not to. And when you don’t have a choice
Freud thought morality was just the superego choking the id into submission. But Jung (and later Piaget) saw it differently: you don’t bury your dark impulses, you train them. It’s like a hockey player — raw aggression is dangerous, but disciplined aggression is what makes them powerful and skilled.
Same goes for sexuality: just being “innocent” because you’re too scared or repressed to act isn’t moral; it’s avoidance. True morality is when you could act — you have the power, the aggression, the desire — but you choose not to misuse it. That’s the difference between someone who’s harmless and someone who’s genuinely good.
“Being moral is when you have the full capacity and opportunity to do evil and still choose to do the right thing.”
RM’s QUESTION: THE SELF IS AN ILLUSION?
In RM’s last letter to ARMYs, he shared that the “self,” at least according to the books and ideas he’s been exploring, is not a finished product. It’s continuous—always unfolding, never whole. That insight aligns closely with Jung’s view: the quest for completeness isn’t something we achieve once and for all, but a lifelong process that ends only with death.
The problem isn’t that we’re incomplete beings. The problem is that we fail to recognize the fullness that already exists in us, and to live it fully. It’s like the horizon: it always appears whole within our vision, yet no matter how far we walk toward it, we never arrive. The horizon keeps receding—not because it is missing something, but because it exists as an endless boundary.
It’s a beautiful metaphor, but one that only resonates if applied to daily life. Too often, people feel unsatisfied or unfulfilled because they’re chasing some imagined state of final completeness—wealth, recognition, or a permanent sense of peace. But Jung reminds us: you will never “get there.” The self is not a destination. It is a process.
That means the work of becoming whole is not about arriving at an end, but about embracing every moment as fulfillment in itself. Each day, each stage of life, each version of who we are is a culmination of everything we’ve lived so far. And that doesn’t require accolades, riches, or perfection to be valid.
As RM reflected, this moment—right now—is an end in itself. It’s the sum of all that has come before. Tomorrow, the horizon will extend further, and we’ll keep walking. But if we only focus on what lies beyond, we miss the wholeness of what’s already here.
In other words, life isn’t about finding permanent happiness. It’s about continuous exploration—forever journeying toward a horizon we will never quite reach. And that’s not failure. That’s the point.
