‘Just Listin for the Proper Question’

I recall several private moments with Anna Freud. One was a poignant episode over a cup of tea; in a second, Miss Freud. One was a poignant episode over a cup of tea; in a second, Miss Freud impressed me with her wit. Both endure principally because of their anecdotal value. The third encounter, however, has had professional consequences.

Miss Fueud and I were assigned to a panel together at an early Hampstead Colloquium. It was one of my first public exposures at Hampstead and I was somewhat uncomfortable about fielding questions in a setting of such free play. In contrast, Miss Freud seemed calm, bolstered, I felt certain, by her decades of experience and commanding presence. We were sitting next to one another and she must have noticed my unease.

She asked about it and I explained. What if the questions were confusing, or unintelligible, or aggressively challenging, or simply irrelevant? She nodded graciously and offered an approach designed to address any of these contingencies.

She said, ‘Just listin for the proper question.’

Her suggestion proved immediadtely effective, probably because of its reassuring value. My anxieties receded and, I suppose, I deported myself reasonably well. Furthermore, I was intrigued by the dual focus she promoted. I no longer recall what specific matters were advanced but I do remember that she actively listened for what might be the most useful question embedded within any raised issues. I watched with curiosity and increasing admiration as Miss Freud responded to one point or another. She seemed capable of finding more in the minds of questioners than many of them even knew existed, and not especially by authoritatively imposing her own views or positions.

Her approach deployed several talents, I thought. For one, it required that she have a fundamental esteem for those raising questions and, for another, an access to a broad range of facts or theories from which she might liberally draw. However much her approach was rooted in science