Perhaps it is not surprising that the editors of Psychoanalytic Review adopt a policy of not publishing critiques of previous papers. It may be symbolically concretizing the widespread criticism about psychoanalysis, that it's a closed system of thought; monastic in the way it is protected in its enclosed figurative walls; and dogmatic in the way in which it is interpreted within these walls.
This encapsulating, cocooning stance might not be limited to the aforementioned journal but it may be an example of an endemic trend in the circles of our guild; it might be a reflection of the current status of organizational psychoanalysis as a system of thinking, or as some of us may prefer to refer to it, our “science.” Even further, this may not be an attitude of theorizing but of guarding of the organizational hierarchy, shrouded under the guise of protecting the scientific purity of theoretical narrative.
Here, we are reminded of the excommunication of Bowlby and his fertile ideas, and still widespread, ongoing hostility towards the attachment theory, possibly the most empirically tested school in the multiplicity of psychoanalyses, as a symbol to such practices of exclusion. In our history, this attitude can easily be applied to many fertile theoreticians/schools, like Kleinians, Kohutians, Jungians and some others. Or we can be reminded of the struggles of the non-MDs for their inclusion into the psychoanalytic profession.
It is probably fair to say that we have a rich tradition of exclusion, banning.
We would like to broaden the context of the discussion; is psychoanalysis a science? Or is it a hermeneutic, linguistic discipline? Or does it straddle both?
This was a major struggle in the times of its founder, Sigmund Freud. He came from a solid scientific background and did want to pursue a career along the lines of physiology and neuroanatomy, as the wonderfully detailed, intimate biography of Ernest Jones suggests. And he made quite significant contributions as a young scholar. As he was betrothed to Martha Bernays, Freud was faced with the harsh reality that he had to make a living for his new family, and thus followed the realistic recommendation of his revered teacher Brucke, and agonizingly abandoned his dreams and opened his private practice, with the significant anxieties and uncertainties of such a work.
To use the incisive insights Freud brought to the understanding of human mind and soul, we may use his theories to analyze him. We may easily postulate, with supporting evidence from the multiple biographies about him, that he was deeply ambivalent all around about this new context of the private practice he found himself in, and might have considered it as second class to basic science. This was clearly demonstrated in his attempts to define psychoanalysis as a science, sometimes overtly and more often covertly in his prolific writings.
Thus, at the root of this century-old “science-or-not” debate might be the mourning of and strivings for the reparation of Sigmund Freud's unfulfilled ambitions and narcissistic injuries. Many analysts and critiques of analysis joined this debate as it flourished on the fertile intellectual politics of the times; a time when science was seen as the pinnacle of human knowledge, and was revered as monotheistic religions were of the previous millennia.
Perhaps the wish to create a science was symbolized in the translating transition of “Das Ich” to “the Ego” and “Das Es” to the “Id” and “Trieb” to “Instinct.” In the linguistic transformation, these ideas changed character—from experience-near, vague constructs to experience-distant structures with theoretical clarity, that had almost autonomous lives and relatedness—as it was masterfully detailed and crystallized in the works
of Hartmann/Kris/Lowenstein and Rapaport. In sum, one may hypothesize that the translation of Strachey created a new narrative of psychoanalysis, which even impacted Freud's thinking. These were the times we were talking about “our science.”
So, within this broader context, let us narrow down our critique to the paper.
The authors of the article rightfully state that criticism is essential in assessing the scientific value of theoretical hypotheses. Intolerance of critique, encapsulated presentations, turn psychoanalytic thinking and writing into semi-religious texts, or maybe interpretations of the “Text” which is the massive Oeuvre of Freud, that needs a Talmudic reading. Talmudic readings naturally create an endless permutation of interpretations as most monotheistic religious texts display.
On the other hand, the authors seem to be content with a very narrow definition of science. The authors' critique on the termination around the revival of Oedipal constellations and the counter debate is an evocative one, but not an evidence for science. An “n” of 1 (one), i.e., a case study, is barely sufficient to prove anything beyond speculative, though helpful, ideas. And the authors' critique is equally insufficient to meet the criteria of being “scientific.”
Basic criteria of the definition of science would include: developing a question about a phenomenon, reviewing the research done on this issue, constructing a hypothesis, testing the hypothesis by doing an experiment, analyzing the data, drawing a conclusion and sharing the findings and hoping for replication of the results.
This is probably a restrictive description, but it applies to most definitions of that mystical concept of “science.”
But then, is recognition of black holes, or some supernova or a new galaxy unscientific? Can we do a double-blind study on the already found new galaxy? Probably not, though we can for sure find some other astrophysicists that can replicate the finding.
It could also be argued how much “evidence-based treatments” in
psychiatry are “scientific.” What makes most psychopharmacological, double-blind, placebo-controlled research fail is not that the active medication does not work, but placebo works equally well. If active medication's effect differentiates from placebo, and especially if it is duplicated, then it may become an “evidence-based treatment.
So, the issue of how to think about scientific aspects of psychoanalysis is a complicated one.
We would like to consider our training in medicine as a paradigm to think about psychoanalysis.
Medical training and practice is not just a “science”; it has scientific elements as a solid foundation, from biochemistry to biology, but then it has many “non-scientific” elements. Would any MD consider anatomy as scientific? Would any MD consider physical examination as “scientific”? We doubt they would. And further, would a surgical intern consider repairing an inguinal hernia or performing appendectomy as “scientific” and just “scientific”? We doubt that too. It is a combination of scientific and nonscientific knowledge that we practice on a daily basis.
Our basic assertion is that “science” is not necessarily the ultimate and most powerful source of information; tradition is another source, improvisation is another one, etc. At the best “scientific” base of medicine can be annotated as “primus inter pares”.
So, if we apply this millennia-old healing profession to a hundred plus year-old healing profession, does psychoanalysis have to be a “science” or just a “science?”