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“I still believe.”
“Our belief is that constructive possibilities stem from man's essential nature, from the core of his being … We believe that man turns unconstructive and destructive only if he cannot fulfill himself.”
How similar is Karen Horney's statement of belief to Anne Frank's, who, in July 1944, a few days before her arrest, wrote, “It is really a wonder that I haven't dropped all my ideals because they seem so absurd and impossible to carry out. Yet I keep them because in spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart.” These words came out of the hidden existence of her short (15 years), tragic life, when she, along with millions of Jews, gypsies, non-Aryans and other “undesirables,” were led away to their ultimate destruction through disease or slaughter. These words became once again the agonized outcry of the human soul, echoed from the beginnings of recorded history. Similarily, in the fifteenth century, when Maimonides, the physician and philosopher, formulated his “thirteen principles” of Jewish faith, he opened each statement with two words that reflected the deepest of all human experience, the experience of faith—the Hebrew Ani me'amin, “I believe.”
In reading Jack Rubins’ sensitive and warmly written biography Karen Horney: Gentle Rebel of Psychoanalysis,”1 I was struck by other similarities. Both Karen and Anne were quite private people—somewhat shy and retiring. Karen also had a secret diary, recently discovered. Both used their diaries as secret confidants. They also both had family roots both in Germany and Amsterdam. But Anne died with her mother and older sister in the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp. Karen, fortunately, left Germany in 1932, already well-recognized in the field of psychoanalysis. Although she, Karen, was not