Freud's Hatchet Man in an Age of Deidealization

When Freud died in exile in 1939, he was already a legend. By the 1950s, he exerted a grip on many imaginations comparable to that of the great figures—Dostoyevsky, Moses, Leonardo—about whom he wrote. There had always been critics and dissenters, of course, but they remained in the minority. In the 1970s and 80s, however, several substantial works called for a downward revision in his standing. Henri Ellenberger's The Discovery of the Unconscious (1971) challenged Freud's originality by situating his discoveries in the context of nineteenth century dynamic psychiatry. Frank Sulloway's Freud, Biologist of the Mind (1979) did the same with nineteenth century biology. Adolf Grünbaum's The Foundations of Psychoanalysis (1986) rejected Freud's claims to scientific standing on philosophical grounds. Despite their criticism, these books were all respectful and complex engagements with Freud's thought. In this respect, they are unlike the later spate of anti-Freud writings, especially Frederick Crews's articles in The New York Review of Books (1994 and 1993).

No earlier critique had the immediate and dramatic impact of Crews's. In part, this was the result of Crews's unprecedented tone of disdain and contempt. One commentator called them “iconoclastic reaction [s] against [Freud's] iconic status” (Goodheart 1995). It is perhaps not widely realized how effective these articles have been in at least temporarily vitiating Freud's reputation, and how many people, perhaps especially among the young, now regard Freud as disproved, old hat, sexist, conservative, replaced by Foucault and the like. Crews performed his function—that of hatchet man—very effectively, but hatchets do not fell great trees unless many axe blows have first prepared the way. These axe blows did not primarily come from the scholars, such as Ellenberger, Sulloway, or Grünbaum, whom Crews cited, but