A vignette: My analyst was analyzed by Max Eitingon, a member of Freud's secret Committee. Eitingon was analyzed during some strolls with Freud in Vienna, making my analyst a ring-bearer by second degree, and establishing me as a third-degree ring bearer. Falzeder reports Jean Piaget, in order to enhance his credentials, cited his analysis with Spielrein (who was analyzed by Freud), and called himself a grandson of Freud's (p. 54). This reasoning would make me a great grandson. Perhaps this makes me closer to the truth, the revealed method, than others who have no “real” connections to Freud and the ring-bearers. I am reminded of the relics of saints or the holy ones in many religions, and the cherished bone fragments, hair and teeth. Possessing an object that belonged to a god, to someone close to a god, or a relic of some sort, seems to bring one closer to that god. Balint called this sort of assigning of truth and authority within psychoanalysis “apostolic succession” (Balint, p. 170). As Falzeder (2015) states, “The shorter and more direct the line can be drawn from Freud himself, the greater is one's prestige” (p. 54). Consider that in 1934 most of Freud's analysands were other analysts or students, when he said to Brill, “It probably does no one good to act the infallible God for six to eight hours a day” (as reported in Falzeder, p. 66, footnote).
Many of the issues raised in this vignette are prominently addressed in Fred Busch's paper, “The Troubling Problems of Knowledge in Psychoanalytic Institutes.” His central questions concern: the transmission of psychoanalytic knowledge, what is psychoanalytic knowledge, how is “psychoanalytic” defined, what is the meaning of objectivity in psychoanalytic knowledge, how is it taught in our institutes, are teachers of this knowledge sufficiently respected, and how might psychoanalysis best prepare for the future?
All this is taken up under the following headings:
On Knowledge, Ambivalence Toward Knowledge, Trends in Teaching, Authoritarianism and the False Self, Authoritarian Anti-authority, and Conversations on Authority.
Busch observes the hope and possibility that the transmission of knowledge in psychoanalysis might have moved from an authoritarian mode, resembling religion and idolatry, toward a freer exchange of ideas. He believes, however, that rather than a freer exchange there arose an attack on “claims of knowledge,” (p. 2) and suggests this has to do with an effort to eliminate differences, and, presumably, envy between those who know and those who don't, as well as the evils of postmodern thought.
The authoritarian transmission of knowledge was deeply embedded in psychoanalysis. Psychoanalysis began as what Max Weber (1964) would call a charismatic movement, led by a charismatic leader. As with all movements of this sort, a crisis of legitimacy arises upon the death of the leader. In psychoanalysis, this was acted out in the Controversial Discussions of the 1940's, when the followers of Klein and those of Anna Freud battled over who was the real daughter of the leader. This is not to discount the theoretical importance of the discussions on unconscious phantasy, but only to cast light on their sociological and organizational aspect. While Freud lived, contending theorists with differing ideas were excommunicated as heretics—e.g., Rank, Jung, Adler, Reich, Ferenczi. With Freud's death the door opened, with Fromm, Horney, Sullivan, and later the Kohutians and Relationalists walking in, along with other contenders to the throne. There was no charismatic figure left within the psychoanalytic movement with the authority to expel the unclean. With no charismatic authority to proclaim the truth, the problem becomes one of values and politics, and empirical studies (when those are possible and the results could be agreed upon and deemed relevant). The latter has been largely absent from psychoanalysis, and, indeed, there seems to be an aversion to empirical studies within our field (Ratner, 2019).
Establishing the foundations for the postmodern world, Kierkegaard, Nietzsche, Freud and Marx, amongst others, were of great significance. Kierkegaard (1962, pp. 49-52) has said, “The ressentiment which is
establishing itself is the process of levelling” …out of envy. Nietzsche uses resentment as a central concept to refer to the envy of the strong by the weak, and the efforts of the weak to destroy the strong. Most would probably identify Busch's speculation as Kleinian in origin, but it is presaged by Kierkegaard and Nietzsche, and they present a “dynamic” explanation- that with the fall of authoritarian ideas there might arise the freedom for envious destruction and a levelling of the envied proportions. However, it seems to me also accurate to turn to the vacuum created with Nietzsche's proclamation of the death of god (Nietzsche 1882), and the difficulties in ascertaining a truth in the absence of an authority that has the power to establish reality. This is the dilemma of the postmodern turn, and the difficulties establishing the truth of claims of knowledge when there are competing criteria for truth and knowledge. Freud died and some of his children defend his sanctity and insist on worship, while others feast on his body in an effort to establish their own ideas.
(It is instructive to quote from Nietzsche , to illustrate the similarity between his formulation of God's death and Freud's notions in Totem and Taboo of the killing of the primal father by the sons: “God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murders? What was holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet owned has bled to death under our knives: who will wipe this blood off us? What water is there for us to clean ourselves? What festivals of atonement, what sacred games shall we have to invent? Is not the greatness of this deed too great for us? Must we ourselves not become gods simply to appear worthy of it?” (Gay Science, Section 125, tr. Walter Kaufmann). Some have claimed (see Waugaman 1973) that Freud feasted on Nietzsche, and could never acknowledge it.
Following Nietzsche, Marx and Freud developed ways of thinking about the world that called into question our ability to know what is real, and our ability to know an objective reality, at least in the social and individual spheres.
Marx defines ideology as the superstructure of thought, law, politics, morality, religion, etc., that rationalizes the economic power structure established by the modes of production of a society. It functions to obfuscate what's “really” going on—the violence and exploitation of the powerless within a society. Thought and knowledge are seen as socially and
historically determined. Ideology acts as an instrument for the powerful classes in society to justify their power. In his studies on the sociology of knowledge, Karl Mannheim (1936, p. 36) contrasted ideology to “utopian thinking,” which he defined as a counterpoint to ideology, creating a tendency for the oppressed classes to destroy an unjust society while blinded by their deprivation and envy, leaving them capable of seeing only the negative aspects of the current socio-economic organization and only the benefits of change. The concept of utopian thought brings us back to Busch's envy and resentment as spurred by the utopian thought that posited that with the death of the psychoanalytic god Freud, there would be a flowering of previously prohibited viewpoints.
There are two crucial notions I want to emphasize with Marx. First, that consciousness does not determine life, but life determines consciousness. Second, the idea of false consciousness as the privileging ideology of the historical moment that hides what is really happening. With these notions, relativism enters the social sciences, for any society's or historical era's store of knowledge can now be viewed as relative, not absolute, as well as obfuscating and defensive. Thought and knowledge are seen as socially and historically determined.
Freud challenged reality from an examination of the individual, and the role of instincts and related fantasies, primal fantasies, in the construction of reality. Fantasy and the power of instinctual energies were seen as a template organizing reality, rather than reality being primary. Marx inverted Hegel's idealism by positing materialism as primary, proposing that the material economic situation of a society shaped ideas rather than ideas being primary (Tucker, 1978). Freud inverted his own “materialistic” seduction theory when he advocated an “idealistic” theory viewing fantasy as creating what is experienced as real, rather than the reality of seduction being primary. Most important is Freud's establishment of phantasy determining psychic reality and questioning the nature of thought by making it the “superstructure” overlying and created by unconscious fantasies: the facts are now determined by phantasy.
While legions of other thinkers are involved, for me it is these thinkers and this dynamic that sets the stage for postmodern thought and Busch's crisis in psychoanalytic knowledge and authority with the “attack on claims of knowledge.”
Busch here explores the tendency of our institutes to devalue classroom teaching and learning, while favoring the candidate's analysis and control cases as the primary locale for the transmission of knowledge. Studies have shown (Cherry et al. 2004) most graduated analysts value supervision and process seminars over classroom learning. The favored focus is praxis, on doing analysis, not how a candidate thinks about what they are doing or their theoretical knowledge. For Busch, this indicates the persistence of a “trade union” mentality. He laments that learning from experience is most valued, while conceptualizing what is being learned and how it fits into a corpus of theory becomes secondary.
I think it is important to recognize that most candidates enter analytic training to learn how to do something and also, often, to get help for themselves. I find only a minority of students to be motivated to explore the literature in depth. Should we deem this a problem, as Busch does? Should we value scholarly knowledge above praxis? The academy over trade unions? Both are important and I am not so certain one should be valued over the other. The wish for “training” rather than scholarship, I believe, has to be respected and accepted as a reality. Analytic training should provide seminar opportunities, perhaps as electives (and this is often done) for those more interested in the intellectual foundations of psychoanalysis, just as they offer continuing case seminars for further knowledge of praxis. This is how it should be. I would not speak of an ambivalence toward knowledge. I would address different people with different interests and provide opportunities within our institutes for all.
Busch's suggestion of more classroom teaching of theory and technique, etc., and my suggestion that it is already offered to those who are interested, actually illustrates part of the difficulty his paper struggles with. Who is right? I maintain that “rightness” is largely a question of values, power, and authority. Like all such questions that don't have clear empirical solutions, it is at base a political question that is essentially settled, at least temporarily, by political means, either authoritarian or democratic. In fact, even if there are clear empirical solutions, it will still remain a political question that hinges on who has power. But more of this later.
Busch contrasts authority with democratization. He complains that the
latter has become too dominant in our institutes, and leads to the erroneous notion everyone has something to say of equal value, and the teacher's job is not to transmit knowledge (which, he says, postmodern thought has discredited), but to help the analytic candidate find their own voice. Busch seems to feel slighted. He is indeed an authority (at least I accept that claim) on clinical technique, and as such should be listened to, thought about and even challenged, so students may use his voice to find their own thoughts about technique. He recognizes his view of analytic method as one among several, but “one worth thinking about and incorporating” (p. 4). He doesn't say why his voice should be “incorporated” rather than others. He contrasts his sort of teaching of a particular perspective with the pseudo-democratic “everyone sitting around” saying whatever comes to mind about a case. He reviles this falsely democratizing postmodern turn, and relates it to controversies around evaluating candidates, and the proclivity of some institutes to affirm candidates rather than evaluate them.
I think Busch here exaggerates his case. In my experience, difficulties in being truthful with candidate evaluations involve the analyst's difficulties with aggression, not adherence to postmodern thought. Moreover, are there really institutes that teach mainly by free association? Teachers do try to convey their conceptions of knowledge. For me, this knowledge is too often accepted uncritically by both teachers and students. I believe what is needed is not respect for learned and scholarly voices (this should be a given and is already, I believe, too readily accepted), but rather students should be taught how to think and critically evaluate the thoughts of others, including the scholarly and learned amongst us. Not doing this is the shortcoming of the apprentice system, the trade model. For me, this is the great failure of psychoanalytic teaching. For instance, we continue to teach developmental theories and theories of pathogenesis that have no basis in real human development, as if they were true. We teach a psychoanalytic method that was developed in tandem with a developmental theory as its rationale, constructing a theory of pathogenesis. Yet, with the demise of instinct theory as the key to development, we no longer have a developmental base for our knowledge (e.g., see Gilmore 2008). There is no longer a consistent and somewhat coherent psychoanalytic developmental theory, as there seemed to be in the past with the theory of stages of libidinal development and
regressions and fixations involved in character and symptom formation, and the development and resolution of the transference neurosis as the central feature of the analytic cure. With this generally accepted knowledge, one could be an “expert” then. Not now, for without this basis our theories are much more exposed to controversy and challenge, and rightly so since so much is unknown. We must distinguish between being an expert, an authority, with a depth of knowledge, and the idea of the truth. In the human sciences, there is only empirically established knowledge involving descriptions, predictions of more or less accuracy, and learned opinions. Learned opinions are opinions; the notion of truth requires the authority of divine revelation and Freud. Consider questions such as: “Should more technique be taught?' Is psychoanalysis still psychoanalysis if it is not 5 times per week? What is free association? What is a psychoanalytic process? What is unconscious fantasy? What is more effective, Kleinian transference-based interpretations or empathic process? How much should the analyst talk? Does touching have any place in the analytic process? Is it possible to have a psychoanalytic process with twice weekly meetings without using a couch? These are important questions, and some of us might have more knowledge of the literature involving these sorts of issues than others, and others of us might have more relevant clinical experience to inform our opinions. But to think the answers to these questions involve truths is mistaken. The answers are reasoned judgments, opinions and values arising from personal and social dynamics, and involving more or less experience and knowledge. The answers involve a political process. This is good. This is healthy. We should encourage our candidates to ask and think about such questions and to think critically, very critically, of their own answers and the answers they hear from others. We should acknowledge the lack of a basis for our technique in an objective science of developmental theory and a theory of pathogenesis, and encourage our candidates to think about this with us. We should teach Busch's important and useful technique of process analysis, but we should also teach theories of mentalization and treatment methods based upon that, and treatments based upon attachment theory. Most of all, we should along with our candidates think critically about it all. Importantly, in so doing, we would be taking these thoughts seriously while modelling a sense of respect toward our teachers and colleagues, along with humility about the limitations of our knowledge.
Busch conceives of the IPA and institutional psychoanalysis before the 1970's as an authoritarian parental environment that forced accommodation and adaptation upon its members, placing the membership into “false self” identities whose professional development depended on adherence to these restrictions. He believes that deficits in the development of a true ego psychology utilizing basic ego psychological principles in clinical work, the controversy and evolution of clinical theories of countertransference, and difficulties in the diffusion of Kleinian thinking, are all examples of this constriction
I agree with Busch. There is no doubt that authoritarian attitudes in institutional psychoanalysis have inhibited creativity and the development of our clinical and developmental theory. And there is no doubt that we have all accommodated, consciously and unconsciously, to this authoritarianism. Part of that adaptation is, I believe, the almost total absence of critical thinking about our literature in our Institutes.
Busch claims two “assaults” on psychoanalysis- first was the assault on metapsychology, and the other the assault on clinical theory. The latter includes the “attack” on the analyst's objectivity and his ability to reflect on countertransference rather than enact it. Busch sees this as an assault on the analyst's “professional competence.” He diminishes calls for the “analyst's authenticity” which he sees as challenging good technique. He laments “expertise has become confused with authoritarianism,” and believes this movement represents an “authoritarian anti-authority.” Invoking his view of post-modern thought, he complains that all views are considered equal when there is no truth. Importantly, Busch notes how psychoanalysis “was post-modern before post-modernism existed,” with its understanding of the subjectivity of our reality. He notes post-modernism claims there is no ultimate truth. “Subjectivity, relativism, perspectivism…these are the new coins of legitimacy” (p. 11).
Busch approvingly notes Blass (2010) in stating, “it may be an interesting idea but why call it psychoanalytic as it has little to do with the history of how the unconscious has been viewed in psychoanalysis?” Busch and Blass raise the question of how do we define psychoanalysis, and
who gets to define it? He says, “We have tended to view as psychoanalytic any theory from a self-identified psychoanalyst, rather than from a base of psychoanalytic knowledge” (p. 11).
Busch agrees with the work of Rachel Blass involving the importance of defining psychoanalysis and establishing boundaries for the field. Blass believes a definition by description of what psychoanalysts' do is inadequate, and calls for making judgments as to what is and is not analytic. The Secret Committee would be very comfortable with this approach. She implies an epistemological stance that considers the facts existing apart from power and legitimacy in the social arena. For Busch and Blass, there are objective ways to arbitrate between opposing claims of definition. I agree there are better and worse definitions of analysis. Yet, this is completely different from the assertion that a definition is “true” and “the” definition.
The controversy over “what is psychoanalysis” is not a scientific question and it never has been. When Eugen Bleuler resigned from the International Psychoanalytical Association in 1911, he wrote, “‘he who is not with us is against us’ or ‘all or nothing’ is necessary for religious communities and useful for political parties…. I find it is harmful for science” (quoted in Falzeder 2015, p. 193). The history of psychoanalysis teaches us that the question of “what is psychoanalysis” is a political question, that is, a question of who has power and gets to define the psychoanalytic world.
Unless the social and unconscious sources of our thinking are appreciated, along with the associated humility this entails, we are in danger of thinking our thoughts are the only “true” thoughts and apply to all. This is an aspect of what Freud called “psychic reality” and what Fonagy and Target (1996) call prementalized thought, specifically psychic equivalence. Another crucial issue in establishing the “truth” is the importance of social legitimacy and the power associated with it. The issue of authority, and the social construction and individual construction of reality and thought (Berger and Luckmann 1966), is central in the human sciences, and must be recognized. Hence the importance of critical thinking. Busch and Blass confuse these matters with claims concerning
the impossibility of thinking in a postmodern world, and the importance of reason and objectivity in resolving theoretical disputes.
Blass writes, “By ‘scientific inquiry’ I mean the inquiry into the nature of reality, into the truth regarding what actually exists, what things actually are” (p.90). She strangely seems to ignore what the social and psychological sciences, including psychoanalysis, are teaching us. The nature of both social and individual reality is that they are infused, from the beginning of life, with fantasy for each individual to a varying extent.
The capacity to mentalize, perceive social reality, in this case the reality of the other as a person with their own mind, thoughts, intentions that may be different from mine, develops in the attachment relationships of infancy, and varies according to the attachment status of the dyad (Chavis 2018, Fonagy et al 2002, Beebe and Lachmann 2014). Mothers in securely attached dyads seem to have the greatest capacity to see the reality of the other, i.e., the other as an other with minimal or no distortion from mother's fantasy of who the child is or what the child is trying to communicate, while the insecurely attached dyads have less capacity, and the distortions are greatest in disorganized dyads where the reality of the infant may be omnipotently denied and the infant experienced as someone other than who they are. The capacity for objective thought is therefore psychologically conditioned by attachment status.
It seems likely that the capacity for mentalized thought, i.e., the recognition of the other as a person with their own thoughts, feelings, and intentions, is in some way connected also with other modes of thought that vary with attachment status as discerned by the adult attachment interview, AAI. Main (2000) has demonstrated differences between secure, insecure and disorganized attachment through the study of the quality of parental discourse in the AAI. Secure attachment is correlated with coherent and collaborative discourse with emotionally contained flexible attention, while insecure attachment demonstrates difficulties with relevance, quantity of discourse, truthfulness, consistency, internal contradictions, confusion, more distortions, difficulty maintaining collaborative discourse, and inflexibility of attention. The AAI in disorganized attachment demonstrates lapses in monitoring reasoning and discourse especially when recounting episodes of loss or abuse, as well as evidence of dissociative intrusions in discourse. From this it appears the quality
of the attachment status of the individual is correlated with important aspects of the capacity for thought.
Attachment status involves a small nuclear family system, but what about societal effects that may distort thought? Studies in the sociology of knowledge demonstrate the social positions of different groups affect manners of thought (Mannheim 1936). Appreciating the creation of seemingly impartial and rational thought by social processes, and also arguing against “ill-considered and sterile relativism,” Mannheim held out the hope that the sociology of knowledge will “set itself the task of solving the problem of the social conditioning of knowledge by boldly recognizing these relations and drawing them into the horizon of science itself and using them as checks on the conclusions of our research” (Mannheim, 1936, p. 237).
Mannheim illustrates how social class, changing generations, socio-economic status, sects, occupations, schools, etc. may all be associated with different ways of formulating the world, how social facts and concepts are used, what is perceived in them, and how they are employed in thinking. Each social group may be associated with different perspectives which partially determine abstract categories, principles of organization, the creation of certain concepts in history (e.g., the creation of psychoanalysis in the 19th century), the definitions and formulation of concepts—all are evolved from the subject's social situation, i.e., class, generation, status, sect, occupation, schools, etc. How one perceives an object or concept, what is perceived in it, and how it is used in thinking are all socially determined. Mannheim writes, “It is precisely these factors which are responsible for the fact that two persons, even if they apply the same formal-logical rules, e.g., the law of contradiction or the formula of the syllogism, in an identical manner, may judge the same object differently” (p. 244).
What is at stake here is the understanding that reason, logic, and the nature and quality of thought, are constructed and vary with respect to the attachment status of the dyad, the social position of the thinker, and the historical moment involved. What is clear is the conflation of fantasy and reality in social, interpersonal and intrapsychic reality, the constructed nature of such reality, and our incessant arguing and struggling over these issues to separate out the “real” as much as possible.
This constitutes psychic reality, and social reality. What is considered real is determined by power: the power of society to legitimate, influence, define, and control individual thought and social identity, or the power of parents to define what is permissible to talk of and recognize as aspects of personal identity, i.e., the self, or the power of the individual's defenses and compromise formations along with the crucial need to maintain the safety of attachments. Even though psychoanalysis is partially responsible for this knowledge, it seems very hard for psychoanalysis to accept this knowledge, and the epistemological and personal humility that comes with it. This is especially true when we are talking of the theoretical and technical conflicts within our field (see also Richards 2006). I agree that “…the lessons of Postmodernism have not yet been fully digested in psychoanalysis” (Civitarese et al., p. 559).
Perhaps this helps us understand our steadfast allegiances to various psychoanalytic theories, even in the face of contradictory evidence. Perhaps it helps understand why psychoanalytic theory tends to have geographical loci-Kleinian thought centered in London, field theory in South America, self-psychology in Chicago. It is hard to disconnect theory from one's attachments, peer groups, admired groups, and one's training analyst. Falzeder (2015) traced the lineages of psychoanalysis, sorting out who was analyzed by whom and the effects this may have had on theoretical developments. He found that there was a direct line in the psychoanalytic family tree for interpersonally oriented analysts, and another line for drive psychology. The former orientation permeates the analysands of Ferenczi and Rank, while the latter the analysands of Freud and Anna Freud. Falzeder traces these theoretical developments back to the analysts who belonged to the Secret Committee and the internal conflict within this group in the mid-1920's that was resolved with the excommunication of Ferenczi and Rank, with Freud, Eitingon, Abraham, Jones, and Sachs prevailing in their definition of psychoanalytic reality, theory and technique. The latter group knew how to define psychoanalysis, and they had the power to do so. The point I wish to emphasize is that these theoretical differences hinge not simply on reason and objectivity, but rather on reason and objectivity as created through the lens of attachment relationships, in particular in psychoanalysis with the training analyst. Moreover, these theoretical differences arise in part from the attachments and life experiences of the major theorists,
and this effects their capacity for objectivity, how and what they think, and what is considered important.
There are others who share this view. Falzeder writes, “Perhaps the time has come to investigate…the connection between the ‘private’ lives and experiences of the pioneers and the theories springing from them….” (p. 74). Stolorow and Atwood state “…every theory of personality can be shown to contain elements deriving not only from the theorist's personal world, but also from the external social field of ideas and concepts within which he lives and works” (p. 25). Likewise, Richards (2006) writes of conflicting theories in psychoanalysis, “There is always a sociopolitical dimension in scientific discourse, including ours…. Behind conflicting ideologies often live conflicting ideals, and these must be elucidated if the conflict is ever to be resolved” (p. 372).
The social nexus of attachment, class, group, and geography contribute toward shaping psychoanalytic theory. This is what psychoanalysis and postmodernism teaches us: our understandings of social and personal reality are not apprehended and shaped by simple reason and objectivity, indeed, the crucible of attachment relationships and the social attachments within which we reside shape reason and objectivity and the construction of our reality. And subjective reality is always intermingled with socially defined objective reality, reality is internalized in social processes and maintained in social processes (Berger and Luckman 1966).
Back to Busch. Everyone would agree that the acknowledgement and recognition of competence and the special knowledge that arises with years of study of a subject should be respected. But this may have little to do with the “truth” of the knowledge espoused. Think of all those scientists immersed for lifetimes in exploring the theory of phrenology. Or debating the nature of the Trinity, the meaning of the Diamond Sutra, the accumulated knowledge in the Talmud, or the nature of the transference neurosis. Deeply learned scholars all, but few would see truths emerging, at least from the perspective of the present. Truth in the social sphere, in my mind, goes along with definitions—they are social products, determined by the politics of social legitimacy. Truth, even as divine revelation, requires social legitimacy. Is climate change a fact, a truth? I believe it is, based on objective scientific empirical research. Patterns and predictions from large quantities of data, or carefully controlled
experiments, yield information especially in mathematical modeling that models the world often quite accurately. However, its acceptance as truth, its “truthiness,” also clearly depends on what community you belong to, and to the values and power relations embodied in politics and personal relations. We must distinguish between scientific truth, social and personal truths, and values. We must recognize the importance of the social division of labor and the social distribution of knowledge, and the power of groups within society to define their views as real or true. No matter how accurate our scientific models and predictions, without social legitimacy the predictions will not be seen as valid or worth acting upon. Without social legitimacy, truth is not very decisive or meaningful.
Busch laments how “subjectivity, relativism, and perspectivism…are the new coins of legitimacy” (p.11). I believe it is time to accept this and indeed, even embrace it, especially since it is partially based upon psychoanalytic understandings. The “coins of legitimacy” reside in political power, in our case within the psychoanalytic social world. Does this invite an abandonment of rational inquiry, as Blass (p.91) suggests? Does it really mean that voicing one's view will be seen as a wish to impose authority, rather than a form of dialogue? (p.91)? Is it really “a tyrannical assertion that there are no truths and that all views are equal” (Bell 2009, p. 333)? Blass states, “…in upholding one's own definition, it is the authority of reason and rational consideration, not personal authority, that comes into play” (p. 91). She believes questioning reason invites us to abandon rational inquiry, and is “an expression of a kind of relativity of postmodern life” (p.91).
Busch claims there is “an unacknowledged rebellion against claims of knowledge and authority with regard to psychoanalytic education” (p. 12). There are a number of cohesive theories of the analytic process and psychopathology, each with its own perspective and way of viewing the analytic process, each with its own set of “facts” that it is based upon, and each able to generate “evidence” to support these assertions of fact about the way the mind works. I believe it is incorrect to state that recognizing these as all sharing validity constitutes a rebellion against knowledge and authority. Recognition of this, indeed, should encourage investigations into the origins – individual and social – of these differences in view. It should encourage the development of a psychoanalytic study of knowledge, akin to the sociology of knowledge. It is this sort of understanding
that would foster the sort of dialogue Blass seems to be advocating, and I believe is truly psychoanalytic. Some of these differences can be resolved through these sorts of studies, along with humility, and others by turning to developmental science, cognitive science, and the brain sciences. Not because of the “truths” they generate, but because controlled experimentation and observation that can be objectively documented and seems best to model the world, e.g., how the brain functions, might therefore engage large numbers of educated informed people to agree on their probability, and form a “thought collective” as described by Ludwig Fleck (Richards, 2006), wielding political power and enhancing social legitimacy in the arena of psychoanalytic ideas.
Busch approvingly cites Ehrlich's invoking of the “subversive side” of psychoanalysis. Busch wants us to define psychoanalysis in a clearer and more delimited manner. Along with Blass, he believes we should define psychoanalytic as restricted by the “key concepts in the major ‘psychoanalytic schools’.”
First, this ignores the reality of the elasticity of psychoanalytic concepts and their hermeneutic nature. It is also arguable that many concepts have been stretched so far, they lose meaning (Sandler 1983). Moreover, restricting the realm of the psychoanalytic to existing key concepts highlights the problem of the politics of who determines what these key concepts are and who gets to define them. Such restriction also closes psychoanalysis off from other fields, the most important being developmental science, brain science and cognitive science. It leaves psychoanalysis in the realm of Torah study, with a premium put on the knowledge of the history of ideas. This is far from a subversive new, exciting way to discover the world.
Second, I don't think psychoanalysis is subversive at this time in history. It was subversive in its formative years because of its insistence on a then new notion of unconscious hidden motives, and its being seen as sexually libertine. The majority of Freud's inner circle were young people in their 20's and 30's (Beneveniste, 2016). They were looking for something new and exciting that would be rebellious and change the status quo. Something that would give them special knowledge. They would be initiates. Freud perhaps sensed this with the idea of the rings and the formation of a Secret Committee of the initiated, the anointed ones.
Psychoanalysis is no longer sexually libertine. Indeed, until recently it was reactionary in its pathologizing and non-recognition of the multiplicity of sexual norms and orientations. Moreover, there is discussion whether sexuality is too distant from many current strands of psychoanalytic thought (Fonagy 2008). As for the novelty of the unconscious, the notion of unconscious and nonconscious brain function is now commonplace in psychology and cognitive science. I would argue that psychoanalysis, as envisioned by those like Blass and Busch, is inherently conservative and restrictive, even reactionary.
Busch contrasts adhering to a stricter definition of psychoanalysis with a “watered-down” definition. This harks back to the debate about the “pure gold” of analysis versus the impure alloy of psychotherapy. Busch believes a “watered-down” definition of psychoanalysis would be detrimental to psychoanalysis. He also suggests we rethink our outreach activities, apprehensive that they will dilute the pure gold.
I have long championed a “big tent” approach to psychoanalytic associations and training programs. While psychoanalysts are a small and shrinking demographic, those with an interest in human relatedness, human development, how we function individually and in relationship, and how our brains and bodies are involved in our relatedness, are a significantly more numerous demographic. While some may think it is important for psychoanalysis to define itself in exclusionary terms, erecting barriers and borders is the exact opposite of what is needed. I think it is possible to define psychoanalysis as both a field of study and as a clinical method that is inclusive, furthering research and enhancing the future of psychoanalysis more than exclusionary definitions would.
I suggest a tentative, broad, heuristic and practical definition of psychoanalysis as the effort to understand and help repair suffering and unhappiness in human relatedness through the formation and mutual study of intimate relationships that elucidate the functioning of conscious and unconscious modes of relatedness. Implicit is the recognition that the more often meetings occur, the more intimate the relatedness and the more phenomena that cause people suffering and unhappiness will have opportunity to arise, be understood, and alleviated. This would include 4-5 times per week treatment, and treatment of less frequency (with the
recognition of the possible limitations of such treatment for the emergence of intimate relatedness), and also family therapy and group therapy, since these enlarge our field of study and offer useful and important knowledge and also help relieve suffering. The use of electronic and internet facilitated treatments would be seen as simply variants of human relatedness, with their own characteristics in need of study. It would also include the brain sciences and the developing fields of social neuroscience and evolutionary developmental biology, developmental psychology, as well as the cognitive sciences. With the neglect of the emotional in these fields of science, psychoanalysis has much to offer them. And we have much to learn. Moreover, psychoanalytic organizations would be more powerful with increased probabilities of enlisting social legitimacy for our work, i.e., we would have more power to define social reality.
So, what is the meaning of all this for psychoanalytic education? I believe we should:
Invite all those with a professional interest in the sciences of human relatedness into APsaA and the IPA. Rather than building definitional walls, we should practice and welcome intellectual curiosity and openness. While our professional organizations' emphasis will of course remain on the clinical encounter between analyst and patient/client, we must recognize the limitations of our knowledge and the ever-changing nature of our knowledge. We must invite brain scientists and social neuroscientists, cognitive psychologists, all brands of therapists with interest enough in psychoanalysis to join with us, and also group and family therapists. Let 100 flowers bloom. This collaborative inquisitive attitude might help make psychoanalysis exciting and revolutionary again.
We must more widely recognize the thought-inhibiting and creativity-diminishing aspects of our Training Analyst system. The problem is not primarily the Training Analyst system, especially now that objective and verifiable criteria for attaining training and supervising analyst status are becoming more prevalent in our institutes. The problem is the nature of intimate attachments, and how they may enhance compliance as well as opposition in influencing beliefs, cognition, and theories. This needs increased recognition and study.
In teaching recognized psychoanalytic theories and techniques, we must teach with humility and the recognition they are far from ideal. We must keep in mind that empirical studies have shown that a majority of analyses end prematurely and a substantial proportion end badly (Cogan and Porcerelli, 2016). We must welcome new ideas and approaches. Recognizing the extent to which our theories and techniques are conditioned by our attachments and social nexus rather than “objective reason,” should herald an era of study and an openness to new ideas and methods.
The postmodern era and trends of thought open new possibilities for our growth as analysts, and for the rejuvenation of psychoanalysis.