The Tavistock Lectures: On the Theory and Practice of Analyt

That's French for "the ancient system," as in the ancient system of feudal privileges and the exercise of autocratic power over the peasants. The ancien regime never goes away, like vampires and dinosaur bones they are always hidden in the earth, exercising a mysterious influence. It is not paranoia to believe that the elites scheme against the common man. Inform yourself about their schemes here.

Re: The Tavistock Lectures: On the Theory and Practice of An

Postby admin » Fri Apr 26, 2019 5:54 am

Part 2 of 2

Discussion

Dr. David Yellowlees:

[273] I need hardly mention that I shall not attempt to discuss anything that has been said tonight. We are all glad Professor Jung has given us such an extraordinarily fascinating account of his own views, rather than spend time on controversial matters. But I think some of us would be grateful if he would recognize that we approach psychology and psychotherapy along lines not exclusively Freudian perhaps, but in accordance with certain fundamental principles with which Freud’s name is associated, though he may not have originated them. We are very grateful that Professor Jung has given us what we believe to be a wider view. Some of us prefer that view, and perhaps the Freudians would be able to tell us why. But the question was raised the other night as to the relationship between the concept of the unconscious which Professor Jung has been laying before us and Freud’s concept of it, and I think if Professor Jung will be so good he could help us a little in that direction. I know quite well I may be misinterpreting him, but the impression I got on Tuesday night was almost as if he had said that he was dealing with facts and Freud with theories. He knows as well as I do that this bald statement really requires some amplification and I wish he could tell us, for example, what we ought to do from a therapeutic point of view when faced with a patient who produces spontaneously what I would call Freudian material, and how far we should regard Freudian theories simply as theories in view of the evidence which can be proved by such material as infantile fixation of the libido—oral, anal, phallic, and so on. If Professor Jung would say a little to give us some kind of correlation we would be very grateful.

Professor Jung:

[274] I told you at the beginning that I do not want to be critical. I just want to give you a point of view of my own, of how I envisage psychological material, and I suppose that when you have heard what I have to contribute you will be able to make up your minds about these questions, and how much of Freud, how much of Adler, or myself, or I do not know whom, you will want to follow. If you want me to elucidate the question of the connection with Freud, I am quite glad to do it. I started out entirely on Freud’s lines. I was even considered to be his best disciple. I was on excellent terms with him until I had the idea that certain things are symbolical. Freud would not agree to this, and he identified his method with the theory and the theory with the method. That is impossible, you cannot identify a method with science. I said that in view of these things I could not keep on publishing the Jahrbuch15 and I withdrew.

[275] But I am perfectly well aware of the merits of Freud and I do not want to diminish them. I know that what Freud says agrees with many people, and I assume that these people have exactly the kind of psychology that he describes. Adler, who has entirely different views, also has a large following, and I am convinced that many people have an Adlerian psychology. I too have a following—not so large as Freud’s—and it consists presumably of people who have my psychology. I consider my contribution to psychology to be my subjective confession. It is my personal psychology, my prejudice that I see psychological facts as I do. I admit that I see things in such and such a way. But I expect Freud and Adler to do the same and confess that their ideas are their subjective point of view. So far as we admit our personal prejudice, we are really contributing towards an objective psychology. We cannot help being prejudiced by our ancestors, who want to look at things in a certain way, and so we instinctively have certain points of view. It would be neurotic if I saw things in another way than my instinct tells me to do; my snake, as the primitives say, would be all against me. When Freud said certain things, my snake did not agree. And I take the route that my snake prescribes, because that is good for me. But I have patients with whom I have to make a Freudian analysis and go into all the details which Freud has correctly described. I have other cases that force me to an Adlerian point of view, because they have a power complex. People who have the capacity to adapt and are successful are more inclined to have a Freudian psychology, because a man in that position is looking for the gratification of his desires, while the man who has not been successful has no time to think about desires. He has only one desire—to succeed, and he will have an Adlerian psychology, because a man who always falls into the second place will develop a power complex.

[276] I have no power complex in that sense because I have been fairly successful and in nearly every respect I have been able to adapt. If the whole world disagrees with me it is perfectly indifferent to me. I have a perfectly good place in Switzerland, I enjoy myself, and if nobody enjoys my books I enjoy them. I know nothing better than being in my library, and if I make discoveries in my books, that is wonderful. I cannot say I have a Freudian psychology because I never had such difficulties in relation to desires. As a boy I lived in the country and took things very naturally, and the natural and unnatural things of which Freud speaks were not interesting to me. To talk of an incest complex just bores me to tears. But I know exactly how I could make myself neurotic: if I said or believed something that is not myself. I say what I see, and if somebody agrees with me it pleases me and if nobody agrees it is indifferent to me. I can join neither the Adlerian nor the Freudian confession. I can agree only with the Jungian confession because I see things that way even if there is not a single person on earth who shares my views. The only thing I hope for is to give you some interesting ideas and let you see how I tackle things.

[277] It is always interesting to me to see a craftsman at work. His skill makes the charm of a craft. Psychotherapy is a craft and I deal in my individual way—a very humble way with nothing particular to show— with the things I have to do. Not that I believe for a moment that I am absolutely right. Nobody is absolutely right in psychological matters. Never forget that in psychology the means by which you judge and observe the psyche is the psyche itself. Have you ever heard of a hammer beating itself? In psychology the observer is the observed. The psyche is not only the object but also the subject of our science. So you see, it is a vicious circle and we have to be very modest. The best we can expect in psychology is that everybody puts his cards on the table and admits: “I handle things in such and such a way, and this is how I see them.” Then we can compare notes.

[278] I have always compared notes with Freud and Adler. Three books have been written by pupils of mine who tried to give a synopsis of the three points of view.16 You have never heard this from the other side. That is our Swiss temperament. We are liberal and we try to see things side by side, together. From my point of view the best thing is to say that obviously there are thousands of people who have a Freudian psychology and thousands who have an Adlerian psychology. Some seek gratification of desire and some others fulfilment of power and yet others want to see the world as it is and leave things in peace. We do not want to change anything. The world is good as it is.

[279] There are many different psychologies in existence. A certain American university, year after year, issues a volume of the psychologies of 1934, 1935, and so on. There is a total chaos in psychology, so do not be so frightfully serious about psychological theories. Psychology is not a religious creed but a point of view, and when we are human about it we may be able to understand each other. I admit that some people have sexual trouble and others have other troubles. I have chiefly other troubles. You now have an idea of how I look at things. My problem is to wrestle with the big monster of the historical past, the great snake of the centuries, the burden of the human mind, the problem of Christianity. It would be so much simpler if I knew nothing; but I know too much, through my ancestors and my own education. Other people are not worried by such problems, they do not care about the historical burdens Christianity has heaped upon us. But there are people who are concerned with the great battle between the present and the past or the future. It is a tremendous human problem. Certain people make history and others build a little house in the suburbs. Mussolini’s case is not settled by saying he has a power complex. He is concerned with politics, and that is his life and death. The world is huge and there is not one theory only to explain everything.

[280] To Freud the unconscious is chiefly a receptacle for things repressed. He looks at it from the corner of the nursery. To me it is a vast historical storehouse. I acknowledge I have a nursery too, but it is small in comparison with the vast spaces of history which were more interesting to me from childhood than the nursery. There are many people like myself, I am optimistic in that respect. Once I thought there were no people like myself; I was afraid it was megalomania to think as I did. Then I found many people who fitted in with my point of view, and I was satisfied that I represented perhaps a minority of people whose basic psychological facts are expressed more or less happily by my formulation, and when you get these people under analysis you will find they do not agree with Freud’s or Adler’s point of view, but with mine. I have been reproached for my naïveté. When I am not sure about a patient I give him books by Freud and Adler and say, “Make your choice,” in the hope that we are going on the right track. Sometimes we are on the wrong track. As a rule, people who have reached a certain maturity and who are philosophically minded and fairly successful in the world and not too neurotic, agree with my point of view. But you must not conclude from what I present to you that I always lay my cards on the table and tell the patient all I mention here. Time would not allow me to go into all those details of interpretation. But a few cases need to acquire a great amount of knowledge and are grateful when they see a way to enlarge their point of view.

[281] I cannot say where I could find common ground with Freud when he calls a certain part of the unconscious the Id. Why give it such a funny name? It is the unconscious and that is something we do not know. Why call it the Id? Of course the difference of temperament produces a different outlook. I never could bring myself to be so frightfully interested in these sex cases. They do exist, there are people with a neurotic sex life and you have to talk sex stuff with them until they get sick of it and you get out of that boredom. Naturally, with my temperamental attitude, I hope to goodness we shall get through with the stuff as quickly as possible. It is neurotic stuff and no reasonable normal person talks of it for any length of time. It is not natural to dwell on such matters. Primitives are very reticent about them. They allude to sexual intercourse by a word that is equivalent to “hush.” Sexual things are taboo to them, as they really are to us if we are natural. But taboo things and places are always apt to be the receptacle for all sorts of projections. And so very often the real problem is not to be found there at all. Many people make unnecessary difficulties about sex when their actual troubles are of quite a different nature.

[282] Once a young man came to me with a compulsion neurosis. He brought me a manuscript of his of a hundred and forty pages, giving a complete Freudian analysis of his case. It was quite perfect according to the rules, it could have been published in the Jahrbuch. He said: “Will you read this and tell me why I am not cured although I made a complete psychoanalysis?” I said: “So you have, and I do not understand it either. You ought to be cured according to all the rules of the art, but when you say you are not cured I have to believe you.” He repeated: “Why am I not cured, having a complete insight into the structure of my neurosis?” I said: “I cannot criticize your thesis. The whole thing is marvellously well demonstrated. There remains only one, perhaps quite foolish, question: you do not mention where you come from and who your parents are. You say you spent last winter on the Riviera and the summer in St. Moritz. Were you very careful in the choice of your parents?” “Not at all.” “You have an excellent business and are making a good deal of money?” “No, I cannot make money.” “Then you have a big fortune from an uncle?” “No.” “Then where does the money come from?” He replied: “I have a certain arrangement. I have a friend who gives me the money.” I said: “It must be a wonderful friend,” and he replied, “It is a woman.” She was much older than himself, aged thirty-six, a teacher in an elementary school with a small salary, who, as an elderly spinster, fell in love with the fellow who was twenty-eight. She lived on bread and milk so that he could spend his winter on the Riviera and his summer in St. Moritz. I said: “And you ask why you are ill!” He said: “Oh, you have a moralistic point of view; that is not scientific.” I said: “The money in your pocket is the money of the woman you cheat.” He said, “No, we agreed upon it. I had a serious talk with her and it is not a matter for discussion that I get the money from her.” I said: “You are pretending to yourself that it is not her money, but you live by it, and that is immoral. That is the cause of your compulsion neurosis. It is a compensation and a punishment for an immoral attitude.” An utterly unscientific point of view, of course, but it is my conviction that he deserves his compulsion neurosis and will have it to the last day of his life if he behaves like a pig.

Dr. T. A. Ross:

[283] Did not that come out in the analysis?

Professor Jung:

[284] He went right away like a god and thought: “Dr. Jung is only a moralist, not a scientist. Anybody else would have been impressed by the interesting case instead of looking for simple things.” He commits a crime and steals the savings of a lifetime from an honest woman in order to be able to have a good time. That fellow belongs in gaol, and his compulsion neurosis provides it for him all right.

Dr. P. W. L. Camps:

[285] I am a humble general practitioner, not a psychologist, and may be labelled as a suburban villa. I am an outsider in this place. The first night I thought I had no right to be here; the second night I was here again; the third night I was glad to be here; and the fourth night I am in a maze of mythology.

[286] I would like to ask something about last night. We were sent away with the idea that perfection was most undesirable and completion the end and aim of existence. I slept soundly last night but I felt that I had had an ethical shock. Perhaps I am not gifted with much intellect and it was an intellectual shock too. Professor Jung declares himself a determinist or fatalist. After he had analysed a young man who went away disappointed and then went to bits, Professor Jung felt it was only right that he should go to bits. You as psychologists, I take it, are endeavouring to cure people, and you have a purpose in life, not merely to enjoy your interests, whether it be mythology or the study of human nature. You want to get at the bottom of human nature and try to build it up to something better.

[287] I listened with the greatest interest to Professor Jung’s simple English terms and rejoiced in them. I have been confounded with all this new terminology. To hear of our sensation and thinking and feeling and intuition—to which possibly an X may be added for something else—was most illuminating to me as an ordinary individual.

[288] But I feel that we did not hear where the conscious or rather where the unconscious of the child develops. I fear that we did not hear enough about children. I should like to ask Professor Jung where the unconscious in the child does become the conscious.

[289] I should also like to know whether we are not misled some what by this multitude of diagrams, barriers, Egos, and Ids, and other things I have seen portrayed; whether we could not improve on these diagrams by having a gradation of stages.

[290] As Professor Jung has pointed out, we have inherited faces and eyes and ears and there are a multitude of faces and in psychology there are a multitude of types also. Is it not reasonable to suppose that there is an enormous possibility of varieties planted on that inheritance, that they are a sort of mesh, a sieve as it were, that will receive impressions and select them in the unconscious years of early life and reach through into consciousness later? I should like to ask Professor Jung whether these thoughts have crossed the mind of an eminent psychologist such as he is— the very greatest psychologist in my view—tonight?

Professor Jung:

[291] After that severe reproach for immorality I owe an explanation of my cynical remarks of yesterday. I am not as bad as all that. I naturally try to do my best for my patients, but in psychology it is very important that the doctor should not strive to heal at all costs. One has to be exceedingly careful not to impose one’s own will and conviction on the patient. We have to give him a certain amount of freedom. You can’t wrest people away from their fate, just as in medicine you cannot cure a patient if nature means him to die. Sometimes it is really a question whether you are allowed to rescue a man from the fate he must undergo for the sake of his further development. You cannot save certain people from committing terrible nonsense because it is in their grain. If I take it away they have no merit. We only gain merit and psychological development by accepting ourselves as we are and by being serious enough to live the lives we are trusted with. Our sins and errors and mistakes are necessary to us, otherwise we are deprived of the most precious incentives to development. When a man goes away, having heard something which might have changed his mind, and does not pay attention, I do not call him back. You may accuse me of being unchristian, but I do not care. I am on the side of nature. The old Chinese Book of Wisdom says: “The Master says it once.” He does not run after people, it is no good. Those who are meant to hear will understand, and those who are not meant to understand will not hear.

[292] I was under the impression that my audience consisted chiefly of psychotherapists. If I had known that medical men were present I would have expressed myself more civilly. But psychotherapists will understand. Freud—to quote the master’s own words—says it is not good to try to cure at all costs. He often repeated that to me, and he is right.

[293] Psychological truths are two-edged, and whatever I say can be used in such a way that it can work the greatest evil, the greatest devastation and nonsense. There is not one statement I have made which has not been twisted into its opposite. So I do not insist on any statement. You can take it, but if you do not take it, all right. You may perhaps blame me for that, but I trust that there is a will to live in everybody which will help them to choose the thing that is right for them. When I am treating a man I must be exceedingly careful not to knock him down with my views or my personality, because he has to fight his lonely fight through life and he must be able to trust in his perhaps very incomplete armour and in his own perhaps very imperfect aim. When I say, “That is not good and should be better,” I deprive him of courage. He must plough his field with a plough that is not good perhaps: mine may be better, but what good is it to him? He has not got my plough. I have it and he cannot borrow it; he must use his own perhaps very incomplete tools and has to work with his own inherited capacities, whatever they are. I help him of course, I may say for instance: “Your thinking is perfectly good, but perhaps in another respect you could improve.” If he does not want to hear it, I shall not insist because I do not want to make him deviate.

Dr. Marion Mackenzie:

[294] In the same way that the rich young man was not called back but went away sorrowful?

Professor Jung:

[295] Yes, it is the same technique. If I were to say to a man, “You should not go away.” he would never come back. I have to say, “Have your own way.” Then he will trust me.

[296] As to the question about children, there has been in the last decades such a noise about children that I often scratch my head at a meeting and say: “Are they all midwives and nurses?” Does not the world consist chiefly of parents and grandparents? The adults have the problems. Leave the poor children alone. I get the mother by the ears and not the child. The parents make the neuroses of children.

[297] It is certainly interesting to make researches into the development of consciousness. The beginning of consciousness is a fluid condition, and you cannot say when the child has become really conscious and when it has not yet. But that belongs to an entirely different chapter: the psychology of the ages. There is a psychology of childhood, which apparently consists in the psychology of the respective parents; a psychology from infancy to puberty; a psychology of puberty, of the young man, of the adult man of thirty-five, of the man in the second half of life, of the man in old age. That is a science in itself, and I could not possibly bring in all that too. I have a most difficult time as it is to illustrate one single dream. Science is large. It is as if you expected a physicist, when he talks of the theory of light, to elucidate at the same time the whole of mechanical physics. It is simply not possible. Psychology is not an introductory course for nurses; it is a very serious science and consists of a heap of knowledge, so you should not expect too much from me. I am doing my level best to grapple with dreams and to tell you something about them, and I naturally cannot fulfil all expectations.

[298] As to the question about perfection: to strive for perfection is a high ideal. But I say: “Fulfil something you are able to fulfil rather than run after what you will never achieve.” Nobody is perfect. Remember the saying: “None is good but God alone,”17 and nobody can be. It is an illusion. We can modestly strive to fulfil ourselves and to be as complete human beings as possible, and that will give us trouble enough.

Dr. Eric B. Strauss:

[299] Does Professor Jung intend to publish the reasons which led him to identify certain archetypal symbols with physiological processes?

Professor Jung:

[300] The case you refer to was submitted to me by Dr. Davie, and afterwards he published it without my knowledge.18 I do not wish to say more about this correlation because I do not yet feel on very safe ground. Questions of differential diagnosis between organic disease and psychological symbols are very difficult, and I prefer not to say anything about it for the time being.

Dr. Strauss:

[301] But your diagnosis was made from the facts of the dream?

Professor Jung:

[302] Yes, because the organic trouble disturbed the mental functioning. There was a serious depression and presumably a profound disturbance of the sympathetic system.

Dr. H. Crichton-Miller:

[303] Tomorrow is the last seminar, and there is a point that interests us that has not been referred to. That is the difficult problem of transference. I wonder if Professor Jung would think it proper to give us his view tomorrow—without dealing necessarily with other schools—as to transference and the proper handling of it?

_______________

Notes:

1 “And Isis, the great lady of enchantments, said, ‘Flow on, poison, and come forth from Rā. … I have worked, and I make the poison to fall on the ground, for the venom hath been mastered.… Let Rā live, and let the poison die; and if the poison live then Rā shall die.’ And similarly, a certain man, the son of a certain man, shall live, and the poison shall die.” E. A. Wallis Budge, Egyptian Literature, I, p. 55.  

2 [Symbols of Transformation, pars. 375ff.]  

3 R. Campbell Thompson, The Epic of Gilgamish.
 
4 [Josephus, The Jewish War 2.111–115.]  

5 [Cf. The Structure and Dynamics of the Psyche (C.W., vol. 8), frontispiece and refs. with it.]  

6 [Thus far, the dream is documented in the “Life of Sophocles,” sec. 12, in Sophoclis Fabulae, ed. Pearson, p. xix.]  

7 [The people of ancient Phocaea, on the western coast of Asia Minor, founded Massilia (Marseilles) and colonies on the east coast of Spain.]  

8 [Cf. Psychological Types, ch. V, 4a.]  

9 [Symbols of Transformation, pars. 572f.]  

10 [Cf. Psychology and Alchemy, par. 105, n. 35, citing Foucart, Les Mystères d’Eleusis. According to classicists, Asterios’ report referred to rituals of Demeter celebrated at Alexandria in which a priest (not of Apollo) and a priestess performed the hierosgamos. The narration of aischrologia to please Demeter occurred during the Thesmophoria, an autumn festival in her honour, the Stenia, celebrating her return, and the mid-winter Haloa, sacred to Demeter and Dionysus. Cf. Harrison, Prolegomena, ch. IV, esp. pp. 136, 148f.]  

11 [Herodotus 2.60 (Penguin edn., pp. 125f.).]  

12 [See Aion (C.W., vol. 9, ii), frontispiece, and Symbols of Transformation, index, s.v.]  

13 New Sayings of Jesus and Fragment of a Lost Gospel, ed. by Grenfell and Hunt [pp. 36 and 15].  

14 [It is MS. Bruce 96, Bodleian Library, Oxford. Cf. Psychology and Alchemy, par. 138f.]

15 [For further analysis of this dream, from the Basel Seminar (supra, p. 3), see Jung’s L’Homme à la découverte de son âme, pp. 214ff.]

15 [Jahrbuch für psychoanalytische und psychopathologische Forschungen (Leipzig and Vienna); Jung withdrew from the editorship in 1913.]  

16 W. M. Kranefeldt, Secret Ways of the Mind; G. R. Heyer, The Organism of the Mind; Gerhard Adler, Entdeckung der Seele.  

17 [Luke 18:19.]  

18 [See supra, par. 135, n. 15.]
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Re: The Tavistock Lectures: On the Theory and Practice of An

Postby admin » Fri Apr 26, 2019 5:57 am

Part 1 of 2

LECTURE V

The Chairman (Dr. J. R. Rees):

[304] Ladies and Gentlemen: You will have noticed that the Chairman’s remarks have been growing shorter each evening. Yesterday Professor Jung was in the middle of a continuous story, and I think we all want him to get on with it straight away.

Professor Jung:

[305] Ladies and Gentlemen: You remember that I began to give you the material belonging to this dream. I am now in the middle of it and there is a great more to come. But at the end of yesterday’s lecture I was asked by Dr. Crichton-Miller to speak about the problem of transference. That showed me something which seems to be of practical interest. When I analyse such a dream carefully and put in a great deal of work, it often happens that my colleagues wonder why I am heaping up such a quantity of learned material. They think, “Well, yes, it shows his zeal and his goodwill to make something of a dream. But what is the practical use of all these parallels?”

[306] I do not mind these doubts in the least. But I was really just about to bring in something belonging to the problem, and Dr. Crichton-Miller has caught me in this attempt and asked just that question which any practical doctor would ask. Practical doctors are troubled by practical problems, and not by theoretical questions; therefore they always get a bit impatient when it comes to theoretical elucidations. They are particularly troubled by the half-amusing, half-painful, even tragic problems of transference. If you had been a little bit more patient, you would have seen that I was handling the very material by which transference can be analysed. But since the question has been raised I think I should rather give way to your wish and talk about the psychology and treatment of transference. But the choice is up to you. My feeling was that Dr. Crichton-Miller had spoken the mind of the majority of you. Am I right in this assumption?

Members:

[307] Yes.

Professor Jung:

[308] I think you are right in your decision, for if I am going to speak about transference I shall have the opportunity to lead back to what I had originally intended with the analysis of that dream. I am afraid we will not have time to finish it; but I think it is better if I start from your actual problems and your actual difficulties.

[309] I would never have been forced to work out that elaborate symbolism and this careful study of parallels if I had not been terribly worried by the problem of transference. So, in discussing the question of transference, an avenue will open to the kind of work I was trying to describe to you in my lecture last night. I told you in the beginning that my lectures will be a sorry torso. I am simply unable, in five evenings, even if I compress things together as I have done, to give you a complete summary of what I have to tell.

[310] Speaking about the transference makes it necessary first to define the concept so that we really understand what we are talking about. You know that the word transference, originally coined by Freud, has become a sort of colloquial term; it has even found its way into the larger public. One generally means by it an awkward hanging-on, an adhesive sort of relationship.

[311] The term “transference” is the translation of the German word Übertragung. Literally Übertragung means: to carry something over from one place to another. The word Übertragung is also used in a metaphorical sense to designate the carrying over from one form into another. Therefore in German it is synonymous with Übersetzung—that is, translation.

[312] The psychological process of transference is a specific form of the more general process of projection. It is important to bring these two concepts together and to realize that transference is a special case of projection—at least that is how I understand it. Of course, everybody is free to use the term in his own way.

[313] Projection is a general psychological mechanism that carries over subjective contents of any kind into the object. For instance, when I say, “The colour of this room is yellow,” that is a projection, because in the object itself there is no yellow; yellow is only in us. Colour is our subjective experience as you know. The same when I hear a sound, that is a projection, because sound does not exist in itself; it is a sound in my head, it is a psychic phenomenon which I project.

[314] Transference is usually a process that happens between two people and not between a human subject and a physical object, though there are exceptions; whereas the more general mechanism of projection, as we have seen, can just as well extend to physical objects. The mechanism of projection, whereby subjective contents are carried over into the object and appear as if belonging to it, is never a voluntary act, and transference, as a specific form of projection, is no exception to this rule. You cannot consciously and intentionally project, because then you know all the time that you are projecting your subjective contents; therefore you cannot locate them in the object, for you know that they really belong to you. In projection the apparent fact you are confronted with in the object is in reality an illusion; but you assume what you observe in the object not to be subjective, but objectively existing. Therefore, a projection is abolished when you find out that the apparently objective facts are really subjective contents. Then these contents become associated with your own psychology, and you cannot attribute them to the object any more.

[315] Sometimes one is apparently quite aware of one’s projections though one does not know their full extent. And that portion of which one is not aware remains unconscious and still appears as if belonging to the object. This often happens in practical analysis. You say, for instance: “Now, look here, you simply project the image of your father into that man, or into myself,” and you assume that this is a perfectly satisfactory explanation and quite sufficient to dissolve the projection. It is satisfactory to the doctor, perhaps, but not to the patient. Because, if there is still something more in that projection, the patient will keep on projecting. It does not depend upon his will; it is simply a phenomenon that produces itself. Projection is an automatic, spontaneous fact. It is simply there; you do not know how it happens. You just find it there. And this rule, which holds good for projection in general, is also true of transference. Transference is something which is just there. If it exists at all, it is there a priori. Projection is always an unconscious mechanism, therefore consciousness, or conscious realization, destroys it.

[316] Transference, strictly, as I have already said, is a projection which happens between two individuals and which, as a rule, is of an emotional and compulsory nature. Emotions in themselves are always in some degree overwhelming for the subject, because they are involuntary conditions which override the intentions of the ego. Moreover, they cling to the subject, and he cannot detach them from himself. Yet this involuntary condition of the subject is at the same time projected into the object, and through that a bond is established which cannot be broken, and exercises a compulsory influence upon the subject.

[317] Emotions are not detachable like ideas or thoughts, because they are identical with certain physical conditions and are thus deeply rooted in the heavy matter of the body. Therefore the emotion of the projected contents always forms a link, a sort of dynamic relationship, between the subject and the object—and that is the transference. Naturally, this emotional link or bridge or elastic string can be positive or negative, as you know.

[318] The projection of emotional contents always has a peculiar influence. Emotions are contagious, because they are deeply rooted in the sympathetic system; hence the word “sympathicus.” Any process of an emotional kind immediately arouses similar processes in others. When you are in a crowd which is moved by an emotion, you cannot fail to be roused by that same emotion. Suppose you are in a country where a language is spoken which you don’t understand, and somebody makes a joke and people laugh, then you laugh too in an idiotic way, simply because you can’t refrain from laughing. Also when you are in a crowd which is politically excited you can’t help being excited too, even when you do not share their opinion at all, because emotion has this suggestive effect. The French psychologists have dealt with this “contagion mentale”; there are some very good books on the subject, especially The Crowd: A Study of the Popular Mind, by Le Bon.

[319] In psychotherapy, even if the doctor is entirely detached from the emotional contents of the patient, the very fact that the patient has emotions has an effect upon him. And it is a great mistake if the doctor thinks he can lift himself out of it. He cannot do more than become conscious of the fact that he is affected. If he does not see that, he is too aloof and then he talks beside the point. It is even his duty to accept the emotions of the patient and to mirror them. That is the reason why I reject the idea of putting the patient upon a sofa and sitting behind him. I put my patients in front of me and I talk to them as one natural human being to another, and I expose myself completely and react with no restriction.

[320] I remember very well a case of an elderly woman of about fifty-eight —a doctor too—from the United States. She arrived in Zurich in a state of utter bewilderment. She was so confused at first I thought her half crazy, until I discovered that she had been in an analysis. She told me certain things she had done in her bewilderment, and it was quite obvious that she would never have done these things if her analyst had been a human being and not a mystical cipher who was sitting behind her, occasionally saying a wise word out of the clouds and never showing an emotion. So she got quite lost in her own mists and did some foolish things which he could easily have prevented her from doing if he had behaved like a human being. When she told me all that, I naturally had an emotional reaction and swore, or something like that. Upon which she shot out of her chair and said reproachfully, “But you have an emotion!” I answered, “Why, of course I have an emotion.” She said, “But you should not have an emotion.” I replied, “Why not? I have a good right to an emotion.” She objected, “But you are an analyst!” I said, “Yes, I am an analyst, and I have emotions. Do you think that I am an idiot or a catatonic?” “But analysts have no emotions.” I remarked, “Well, your analyst apparently had no emotions, and, if I may say so, he was a fool!” That one moment cleared her up completely; she was absolutely different from then on. She said, “Thank heaven! Now I know where I am. I know there is a human being opposite me who has human emotions!” My emotional reaction had given her orientation. She wasn’t a thinking type, she was a feeling type and therefore needed that kind of orientation. But her analyst was a man who simply thought and existed in his intellect, and had no connection with her feeling-life. She was a highly emotional sanguine sort of person who needed the emotionality and the feeling gesture of another human being in order not to feel alone. When you have to treat a feeling type and you talk intellectual stuff exclusively it is the same as if you, as the only intellectual, were talking to a company of feeling types. You would be utterly lost; you would feel as if you were at the North Pole, because you wouldn’t be understood; nobody would react to your ideas. People would all be frightfully nice—and you would feel utterly foolish because they would not respond to your way of thinking.

[321] One always has to answer people in their main function, otherwise no contact is established. So, in order to be able to show my patients that their reactions have arrived in my system, I have to sit opposite them so that they can read the reactions in my face and can see that I am listening. If I sit behind them, then I can yawn, I can sleep, I can go off on my own thoughts, and I can do what I please. They never know what is happening to me, and then they remain in an auto-erotic and isolated condition which is not good for ordinary people. Of course, if they were going to prepare for an existence as hermits on the Himalayas, it would be a different matter.

[322] The emotions of patients are always slightly contagious, and they are very contagious when the contents which the patient projects into the analyst are identical with the analyst’s own unconscious contents. Then they both fall into the same dark hole of unconsciousness, and get into the condition of participation. This is the phenomenon which Freud has described as countertransference. It consists of mutual projecting into each other and being fastened together by mutual unconsciousness. Participation, as I have told you, is a characteristic of primitive psychology, that is, of a psychological level where there is no conscious discrimination between subject and object. Mutual unconsciousness is of course most confusing both to the analyst and to the patient; all orientation is lost, and the end of such an analysis is disaster.

[323] Even analysts are not absolutely perfect, and it can happen that they are occasionally unconscious in certain respects. Therefore long ago I stipulated that analysts ought to be analysed themselves: they should have a father confessor or a mother confessor. Even the Pope, for all his infallibility, has to confess regularly, and not to a monsignor or a cardinal but to an ordinary priest. If the analyst does not keep in touch with his unconscious objectively, there is no guarantee whatever that the patient will not fall into the unconscious of the analyst. You probably all know certain patients who possess a diabolical cunning in finding out the weak spot, the vulnerable place in the analyst’s psyche. To that spot they seek to attach the projections of their own unconscious. One usually says that it is a characteristic of women, but that is not true, men do just the same. They always find out this vulnerable spot in the analyst, and he can be sure that, whenever something gets into him, it will be exactly in that place where he is without defence. That is the place where he is unconscious himself and where he is apt to make exactly the same projections as the patient. Then the condition of participation happens, or, more strictly speaking, a condition of personal contamination through mutual unconsciousness.

[324] One has, of course, all sorts of ideas about transference, and we are all somewhat prejudiced by the definition which Freud has given; one is inclined to think that it is always a matter of erotic transference. But my experience has not confirmed the theory that it is erotic contents or infantile things exclusively that are projected. According to my experience, anything can be a matter for projection, and the erotic transference is just one of the many possible forms of transference. There are many other contents in the human unconscious which are also of a highly emotional nature, and they can project themselves just as well as sexuality. All activated contents of the unconscious have the tendency to appear in projection. It is even the rule that an unconscious content which is constellated shows itself first as a projection. Any activated archetype can appear in projection, either into an external situation, or into people, or into circumstances—in short, into all sorts of objects. There are even transferences to animals and to things.

[325] Not very long ago I had an interesting case of an unusually intelligent man. I explained to him a projection he had “made”: he had projected his unconscious image of woman into a real woman, and the dreams showed very clearly just where the real person was utterly different from what he expected her to be, The fact went home. Then he said, “If I had known that two years ago it would have saved me 40,000 francs!” I asked, “How is that?” “Well, somebody showed me an old Egyptian sculpture, and I instantly fell in love with it. It was an Egyptian cat, a very beautiful thing.” He instantly bought it for 40,000 francs and put it on the mantelpiece in his drawing-room. But then he found that he had lost his peace of mind. His office was on the floor below, and nearly every hour he had to jump up from his work to look at the cat, and when he had satisfied his desire he went back to work only to go upstairs again after some time. This restlessness became so disagreeable that he put the cat on his desk right opposite him—to find that he couldn’t work any more! Then he had to lock it away in the attic in order to be liberated from its influence, and he had to fight down a continuous temptation to open the box and look at the cat again. When he understood his general projection of the feminine image—for, of course, the cat symbolized the woman—then the whole charm and fascination of the sculpture was gone.

[326] That was a projection into a physical object, and it made the cat into a living being to whom he always had to return as some people return to the analyst. As you know, the analyst is often accused of having snake’s eyes, of magnetizing or hypnotizing people, of forcing them to come back to him, of not letting them go. There are certain exceptionally bad cases of countertransference when the analyst really cannot let go of the patient; but usually such accusations are the expression of a very disagreeable kind of projection which may even amount to ideas of persecution.

[327] The intensity of the transference relationship is always equivalent to the importance of its contents to the subject. If it is a particularly intense transference, we can be sure that the contents of the projection, once they are extracted and made conscious, will prove to be just as important to the patient as the transference was. When a transference collapses it does not vanish into the air; its intensity, or a corresponding amount of energy, will appear in another place, for instance in another relationship, or in some other important psychological form. For the intensity of the transference is an intense emotion which is really the property of the patient. If the transference is dissolved, all that projected energy falls back into the subject, and he is then in possession of the treasure which formerly, in the transference, had simply been wasted.

[328] Now we have to say a few words about the aetiology of the transference. Transference can be an entirely spontaneous and unprovoked reaction, a sort of “love at first sight.” Of course transference should never be misunderstood as love; it has nothing to do with love whatever. Transference only misuses love. It may appear as if transference were love, and inexperienced analysts make the mistake of taking it for love, and the patient makes the same mistake and says that he is in love with the analyst. But he is not in love at all.

[329] Occasionally a transference can even spring up before the first sight, that is before or outside the treatment. And if it happens to a person who does not come for analysis afterwards, we cannot find out the reasons. But this shows all the more that it has nothing whatever to do with the real personality of the analyst.

[330] Once a lady came to me whom I had seen about three weeks before at a social reception. I had not even spoken to her then, I had only talked to her husband, and I knew him only rather superficially. The lady then wrote for a consultation, and I gave her an appointment. She came, and when she was at the door of my consulting room she said, “I don’t want to enter.” I replied, “You don’t have to enter; you can go away, of course! I have absolutely no interest in having you here if you don’t want to come.” Then she said, “But I must!” I answered, “I’m not forcing you.” “But you forced me to come.” “How did I do that?” I thought she was crazy, but she was not crazy at all, she merely had a transference which pulled her to me. She had made some kind of projection in the meantime, and that projection had such a high emotional value for her that she could not resist it; she was magically drawn to come to me because that elastic string was too strong for her. In the course of her analysis we naturally found out what the contents of that non-provoked transference were.

[331] Usually a transference establishes itself only during the analysis. Very often it is caused by a difficulty in making contact, in establishing emotional harmony between the doctor and the patient—what the French psychologists at the time of hypnotic and suggestion therapy used to call “le rapport.” A good rapport means that the doctor and patient are getting on well together, that they can really talk to each other and that there is a certain amount of mutual confidence. Of course, at the time of the hypnotic therapists, the whole hypnotic and suggestive effect depended on the existence or non-existence of the rapport. In analytical treatment, if the rapport between analyst and patient is difficult on account of differences of personality, or if there are other psychological distances between them that hinder the therapeutic effect, that lack of contact causes the unconscious of the patient to try to cover the distance by building a compensatory bridge. Since there is no common ground, no possibility of forming any kind of relationship, a passionate feeling or an erotic fantasy attempts to fill the gap.

[332] This often happens to people who habitually resist other human beings —either because of an inferiority complex or because of megalomania, or for other reasons—and who are psychologically very isolated. Then, out of fear of getting lost, their nature causes a violent effort of the emotions to attach themselves to the analyst. They are in despair that perhaps he too will not understand them: so they try to propitiate either the circumstances, or the analyst, or their own unwillingness by a sort of sexual attraction.

[333] All these compensatory phenomena can be turned round and be applied to the analyst as well. Suppose, for instance, that an analyst has to treat a woman who does not particularly interest him, but suddenly he discovers that he has a sexual fantasy about her. Now I don’t wish it on analysts that they should have such fantasies, but if they do they had better realize it, because it is important information from their unconscious that their human contact with the patient is not good, that there is a disturbance of rapport. Therefore the analyst’s unconscious makes up for the lack of a decent human rapport by forcing a fantasy upon him in order to cover the distance and to build a bridge. These fantasies can be visual, they can be a certain feeling or a sensation—a sexual sensation, for instance. They are invariably a sign that the analyst’s attitude to the patient is wrong, that he overvalues him or undervalues him or that he does not pay the right attention. That correction of his attitude can also be expressed by dreams. So if you dream of a patient, always pay attention and try to see whether the dream is showing you where you may be wrong. Patients are tremendously grateful when you are honest in that respect, and they feel it very much when you are dishonest or neglectful.

[334] I once had a most instructive case of that sort. I was treating a young girl of about twenty or twenty-four. She had had a very peculiar childhood; she was born in Java of a very good European family, and had a native nurse.1 As happens with children born in the colonies, the exotic environment and that strange and, in this case, even barbarous civilization got under her skin, and the whole emotional and instinctual life of the child became tainted with that peculiar atmosphere. That atmosphere is something the white man in the East hardly ever realizes; it is the psychic atmosphere of the native in regard to the white man, an atmosphere of intense fear—fear of the cruelty, the recklessness, and the tremendous and unaccountable power of the white man. That atmosphere infects children born in the East; the fear creeps into them and fills them with unconscious fantasies about the cruelty of the white man, and their psychology gets a peculiar twist and their sex life often goes completely wrong. They suffer from unaccountable nightmares and panics and cannot adapt themselves to normal circumstances when it comes to the problem of love and marriage and so on.

[335] That was the case with this girl. She went hopelessly astray and got into the most risky erotic situations, and she acquired a very bad reputation. She adopted inferior ways; she began to paint and powder herself in a rather conspicuous fashion, also to wear big ornaments in order to satisfy the primitive woman in her blood, or rather in her skin, so that she could join in and help her to live. Because she could not and naturally would not live without her instincts, she had to do all sorts of things which went too low. For instance, she easily succumbed to bad taste; she wore terrible colours to please the primitive unconscious in her so that it would join in when she wanted to interest a man. But naturally her choice of men was also below the mark, and so she got into a frightful tangle. Her nickname was “the great whore of Babylon.” All this was, of course, most unfortunate for an otherwise decent girl. When she came to me she really looked absolutely forbidding, so that I felt pretty awkward on account of my own maids when she was in my office for an hour. I said, “Now, you simply can’t look like that, you look like—” and I said something exceedingly drastic. She was very sad over it but she couldn’t help it.

[336] At this point I dreamed of her in the following way: I was on a highway at the foot of a high hill, and upon the hill was a castle, and on that castle was a high tower, the donjon. On top of that high tower was a loggia, a beautiful open contrivance with pillars and a beautiful marble balustrade, and upon that balustrade sat an elegant figure of a woman. I looked up—and I had to look up so that I felt the pain in my neck even afterwards—and the figure was my patient! Then I woke up and instantly I thought, “Heavens! Why does my unconscious put that girl so high up?” And immediately the thought struck me, “I have looked down on her.” For I really thought that she was bad. My dream showed me that this was a mistake, and I knew that I had been a bad doctor. So I told her the next day: “I have had a dream about you where I had to look up to you so that my neck hurt me, and the reason for this compensation is that I have looked down on you.” That worked miracles, I can tell you! No trouble with the transference any more, because I simply got right with her and met her on the right level.

[337] I could tell you quite a number of informative dreams like that about the doctor’s own attitude. And when you really try to be on a level with the patient, not too high nor too low, when you have the right attitude, the right appreciation, then you have much less trouble with the transference. It won’t save you from it entirely, but sure enough you won’t have those bad forms of transference which are mere over-compensations for a lack of rapport.

[338] There is another reason for over-compensation by transference in the case of patients with an utterly auto-erotic attitude; patients who are shut away in auto-erotic insulation and have a thick coat of armour, or a thick wall and moat around them. Yet they have a desperate need for human contact, and they naturally begin to crave for a human being outside the walls. But they don’t do anything about it. They won’t lift a finger, and neither will they allow anybody to approach them, and from this attitude they get a terrible transference. Such transferences cannot be touched, because the patients are too well defended on all sides. On the contrary, if you try to do something about the transference, they feel it as a sort of aggression, and they defend themselves still more. So you must leave these people to roast in their own fat until they are satisfied and come voluntarily out of their fortress. Of course they will complain like anything about your lack of understanding and so on, but the only thing you can do is to be patient and say, “Well, you are inside, you show nothing, and as long as you don’t show anything I can do nothing either.”

[339] In such a case the transference can come almost to the boiling point, because only a strong flame will cause the person to leave his castle. Of course that means a great outburst; but the outburst must be borne quietly by the doctor, and the patient will later on be very thankful that he has not been taken literally. I remember the case of a colleague of mine—and I can safely tell you of this case because she is dead—an American woman who came to me under very complicated circumstances. In the beginning she was on her high horse You know there are peculiar institutions in America called universities and colleges for women; in our technical language we call them animus incubators, and they turn out annually a large number of fearful persons. Now she was such a bird. She was “very competent,” she had got into a disagreeable transference situation. She was an analyst and had a case of a married man who fell wildly in love with her, apparently. It was not, of course, love, it was transference. He projected into her that she wanted to marry him but would not admit that she was in love with him and so wasted no end of flowers and chocolates and finery over her, and finally he even threatened her with a revolver. So she had to leave at once and come to me.

[340] It soon turned out that she had no idea of a woman’s feeling-life. She was O.K. as a doctor, but whatever touched the sphere of a man was absolutely and utterly strange to her She was even blissfully ignorant of a man’s anatomy, because at the university, where she had studied one only dissected female bodies. So you can imagine the situation with which I was confronted.

[341] Naturally I saw it coming, and I saw right away why the man had fallen into the trap. She was totally unconscious of herself as a woman; she was just a man’s mind with wings underneath, and the whole woman’s body was non-existent, and her patient was forced by nature to fill the gap. He had to prove to her that a man does exist and that a man has a claim, that she was a woman and that she should respond to him. It was her female non-existence that baited the trap. He was, of course, equally unconscious, because he did not see at all that she did not exist as a woman. You see, he also was such a bird, consisting of only a head with wings underneath. He also was not a man. We often discover with Americans that they are tremendously unconscious of themselves. Sometimes they suddenly grow aware of themselves, and then you get these interesting stories of decent young girls eloping with Chinamen or with Negroes, because in the American that primitive layer, which with us is a bit difficult, with them is decidedly disagreeable, as it is much lower down. It is the same phenomenon as “going black” or “going native” in Africa.

[342] Now these two people both came into this awful transference situation, and one could say they were both entirely crazy, and therefore the woman had to run away. The treatment was, of course, perfectly clear. One had to make her conscious of herself as a woman, and a woman never becomes conscious of herself as long as she cannot accept the fact of her feelings. Therefore her unconscious arranged a marvellous transference to me, which naturally she would not accept, and I did not force it upon her. She was just such a case of complete insulation, and facing her with her transference would merely have forced her into a position of defence which of course would have defeated the whole purpose of the treatment. So I never spoke of it and just let things go, and quietly worked along with the dreams. The dreams, as they always do, were steadily informing us of the progress of her transference. I saw the climax coming and knew that one day a sudden explosion would take place. Of course, it would be a bit disagreeable and of a very emotional nature, as you have perhaps noticed in your own experience, and I foresaw a highly sentimental situation. Well, you just have to put up with it; you cannot help it. After six months of very quiet and painstaking systematic work she couldn’t hold herself in any longer, and suddenly she almost shouted: “But I love you!” and then she broke down and fell upon her knees and made an awful mess of herself.

[343] You just have to stand such a moment. It is really awful to be thirty-four years old and to discover suddenly that you are human. Then it comes, of course, as a big lump to you and that lump is often indigestible. If I had told her six months before that the moment would come when she would make declarations of love, she would have jumped off to the moon. Hers was a condition of auto-erotic insulation, and the rising flame, the increasing fire of her emotions finally burned through the walls, and naturally it all came out as a sort of organic eruption. She was the better for its happening, and in that moment even the transference situation in America was settled.

[344] You probably think that all this sounds pretty cold-blooded. As a matter of fact, you can only cope decently with such a situation when you do not behave as if you were superior. You have to accompany the process and lower your consciousness and feel along the situation, in order not to differ too much from your patient; otherwise he feels too awkward and will have the most terrible resentment afterwards. So it is quite good to have a reserve of sentiments which you can allow to play on such an occasion. Of course it requires some experience and routine to strike the right note. It is not always quite easy, but one has to bridge over these painful moments so that the reactions of the patient will not be too bad.

[345] I have already mentioned a further reason for the transference, and that is mutual unconsciousness and contamination.2 The case which I just told you about provides an example of this. Contamination through mutual unconsciousness happens as a rule when the analyst has a similar lack of adaptation to that of the patient; in other words, when he is neurotic. In so far as the analyst is neurotic, whether his neurosis be good or bad, he has an open wound, somewhere there is an open door which he does not control, and there a patient will get in, and then the analyst will be contaminated. Therefore it is an important postulate that the analyst should know as much as possible about himself.

[346] I remember the case of a young girl who had been with two analysts before she came to me, and when she came to me she had the identical dream she had had when she was with those analysts.3 Each time at the very beginning of her analysis she had a particular dream: She came to the frontier and she wanted to cross it, but she could not find the custom-house where she should have gone to declare whatever she carried with her. In the first dream she was seeking the frontier, but she did not even come to it. That dream gave her the feeling that she would never be able to find the proper relation to her analyst; but because she had feelings of inferiority and did not trust her judgment, she remained with him, and nothing came of it at all. She worked with him for two months and then she left.

[347] She then went to another analyst. Again she dreamed that she came to the frontier; it was a black night, and the only thing she could see was a faint little light. Somebody said that that was the light in the custom-house, and she tried to get to it. On the way she went down a hill and crossed a valley. In the depths of the valley was a dark wood and she was afraid to go on, but nevertheless she went through it, and suddenly she felt that somebody was clinging to her in the darkness. She tried to shake herself free, but that somebody clung to her still more, and she suddenly discovered that it was her analyst. Now what happened was that after about three months of work this analyst developed a violent counter-transference to her, which the initial dream had foreseen.

[348] When she came to me—she had seen me before at a lecture and had made up her mind to work with me—she dreamed that she was coming to the Swiss frontier. It was day and she saw the custom-house. She crossed the frontier and she went into the custom-house, and there stood a Swiss customs official. A woman went in front of her and he let that woman pass, and then her turn came. She had only a small bag with her, and she thought she would pass unnoticed. But the official looked at her and said: “What have you got in your bag?” She said: “Oh, nothing at all,” and opened it. He put his hand in and pulled out something that grew bigger and bigger, until it was two complete beds. Her problem was that she had a resistance against marriage; she was engaged and would not marry for certain reasons, and those beds were the marriage-beds. I pulled that complex out of her and made her realize the problem, and soon after she married.

[349] These initial dreams are often most instructive. Therefore I always ask a new patient when he first comes to me: “Did you know some time ago that you were coming? Have you met me before? Have you had a dream lately, perhaps last night?”—because if he did, it gives me most valuable information about his attitude. And when you keep in close touch with the unconscious you can turn many a difficult corner. A transference is always a hindrance; it is never an advantage. You cure in spite of the transference, not because of it.

[350] Another reason for the transference, particularly for bad forms of it, is provocation on the part of the analyst. There are certain analysts, I am sorry to say, who work for a transference because they believe, I don’t know why, that transference is a useful and even necessary part of the treatment; therefore patients ought to have a transference. Of course this is an entirely mistaken idea. I have often had cases who came to me after a previous analysis and who after a fortnight or so became almost desperate. So far things had gone on very nicely and I was fully confident that the case would work out beautifully—and suddenly the patients informed me that they could not go on, and then the tears came. I asked, “Why can’t you go on? Have you got no money, or what is the matter?” They said, “Oh, no, that is not the reason. I have no transference.” I said, “Thank heaven you have no transference! A transference is an illness. It is abnormal to have a transference. Normal people never have transferences.” Then the analysis goes on again quietly and nicely.

[351] We do not need transference just as we do not need projection. Of course, people will have it nevertheless. They always have projections but not the kind they expect. They have read Freud on transference, or they have been with another analyst, and it has been pumped into them that they ought to have a transference or they will never be cured. This is perfect nonsense. Transference or no transference, that has nothing to do with the cure. It is simply due to a peculiar psychological condition that there are these projections, and, just as one dissolves other projections by making them conscious, one has to dissolve the transference by making it conscious too. If there is no transference, so much the better. You get the material just the same. It is not transference that enables the patient to bring out his material; you get all the material you could wish for from dreams. The dreams bring out everything that is necessary. If you work for a transference, most likely you will provoke one, and the result of the analysis will be bad; for you can only provoke a transference by insinuating the wrong things, by arousing expectations, by making promises in a veiled way, which you do not mean to keep because you could not. You cannot possibly have affairs with eleven thousand virgins, and so you cheat people. An analyst is not allowed to be too friendly, otherwise he will be caught by it: he will produce an effect which goes beyond him. He cannot pay the bill when it is presented, and he should not provoke something for which he is not willing to pay. Even if the analyst means to do it for the good of the patient, it is a very misguided way, and it is always a great mistake. Leave people where they are. It does not matter whether they love the analyst or not. We are not all Germans who want to be loved when they sell you a pair of sock-suspenders. It is too sentimental. The patient’s main problem is precisely to learn how to live his own life, and you don’t help him when you meddle with it.

[352] Those are some of the reasons for a transference. The general psychological reason for projection is always an activated unconscious that seeks expression. The intensity of the transference is equivalent to the importance of the projected content. A strong transference of a violent nature corresponds to a fiery content; it contains something important, something of great value to the patient. But as long as it is projected, the analyst seems to embody this most precious and important thing. He can’t help being in this unfortunate position, but he has to give that value back to the patient, and the analysis is not finished until the patient has integrated the treasure. So, if a patient projects the saviour complex into you, for instance, you have to give back to him nothing less than a saviour— whatever that means. But you are not the saviour—most certainly not.

[353] Projections of an archetypal nature involve a particular difficulty for the analyst. Each profession carries its respective difficulties, and the danger of analysis is that of becoming infected by transference projections, in particular by archetypal contents. When the patient assumes that his analyst is the fulfilment of his dreams, that he is not an ordinary doctor but a spiritual hero and a sort of saviour, of course the analyst will say, “What nonsense! This is just morbid. It is a hysterical exaggeration.” Yet—it tickles him; it is just too nice. And, moreover, he has the same archetypes in himself. So he begins to feel, “If there are saviours, well, perhaps it is just possible that I am one,” and he will fall for it, at first hesitantly, and then it will become more and more plain to him that he really is a sort of extraordinary individual. Slowly he becomes fascinated and exclusive. He is terribly touchy, susceptible, and perhaps makes himself a nuisance in medical societies. He cannot talk with his colleagues any more because he is—I don’t know what. He becomes very disagreeable or withdraws from human contacts, isolates himself, and then it becomes more and more clear to him that he is a very important chap really and of great spiritual significance, probably an equal of the Mahatmas on the Himalayas, and it is quite likely that he also belongs to the great brotherhood. And then he is lost to the profession.

[354] We have very unfortunate examples of this kind. I know quite a number of colleagues who have gone that way. They could not resist the continuous onslaught of the patients’ collective unconscious—case after case projecting the saviour complex and religious expectations and the hope that perhaps this analyst with his “secret knowledge” might own the key that has been lost by the Church, and thus could reveal the redeeming truth. All this is a subtle and very alluring temptation and they have given way to it. They identify with the archetype, they discover a creed of their own, and as they need disciples who believe in them they will found a sect.

[355] The same problem also accounts for the peculiar difficulty psychologists of different schools have in discussing their divergent ideas in a reasonably amicable way, and for a tendency, peculiar to our branch of science, to lock themselves into little groups and scientific sects with a faith of their own. All these groups really doubt their exclusive truth, and therefore they all sit together and say the same thing continually until they finally believe it. Fanaticism is always a sign of repressed doubt. You can study that in the history of the Church. Always in those times when the Church begins to waver the style becomes fanatical, or fanatical sects spring up, because the secret doubt has to be quenched. When one is really convinced, one is perfectly calm and can discuss one’s belief as a personal point of view without any particular resentment.

[356] It is a typical occupational hazard of the psychotherapist to become psychically infected and poisoned by the projections to which he is exposed. He has to be continually on his guard against inflation. But the poison does not only affect him psychologically; it may even disturb his sympathetic system. I have observed quite a number of the most extraordinary cases of physical illness among psychotherapists, illness which does not fit in with the known medical symptomatology, and which I ascribe to the effect of this continuous onslaught of projections from which the analyst does not discriminate his own psychology. The peculiar emotional condition of the patient does have a contagious effect. One could almost say it arouses similar vibrations in the nervous system of the analyst, and therefore, like alienists, psychotherapists are apt to become a little queer. One should bear that problem in mind. It very definitely belongs to the problem of transference.

[357] We now have to speak of the therapy of the transference.4 This is an enormously difficult and complicated subject, and I am afraid I shall tell you certain things which you know just as well as I do, but in order to be systematic I cannot omit them.

[358] It is obvious that the transference has to be dissolved and dealt with in the same way as the analyst would deal with any other projection. That means in practical terms: you have to make the patient realize the subjective value of the personal and impersonal contents of his transference. For it is not only personal material which he projects. As you have just heard, the contents can just as well be of an impersonal, that is archetypal, nature. The saviour complex is certainly not a personal motif; it is a world-wide expectation, an idea which you find all over the world and in every epoch of history. It is the archetypal ideas of the magic personality.5

[359] In the beginning of an analysis, transference projections are inevitable repetitions of former personal experiences of the patient’s. At this stage you have to treat all the relationships which the patient has had before. For instance, if you have a case who has been in many health-resorts with the typical doctors you find in such places, the patient will project these experiences into the analyst; so you have first to work through the figures of all those colleagues in seaside places and sanatoria, with enormous fees and the necessary theatrical display, and the patient quite naturally assumes that you too are such a bird. You have to work through the whole series of people that the patient has experienced—the doctors, the lawyers, the teachers in schools, the uncles, the cousins, the brothers, and the father. And when you have gone through the whole procession and come right down to the nursery you think that now you are through with it, but you are not. It is just as if behind the father there was still more, and you even begin to suspect that the grandfather is being projected. That is possible; I never knew of a great-grandfather that was projected into me, but I know of a grandfather that was. When you have got down to the nursery, so that you almost peep out of the other side of existence, then you have exhausted the possibilities of consciousness; and if the transference does not come to an end there, despite all your efforts, it is on account of the projection of impersonal contents. You recognize the existence of impersonal projections by the peculiar impersonal nature of their contents; as for instance the saviour complex or an archaic God-image. The archetypal character of these images produces a “magic,” that is, an overpowering effect. With our rational consciousness we can’t see why this should happen. God, for instance, is spirit, and spirit to us is nothing substantial or dynamic. But if you study the original meaning of these terms, you get at the real nature of the underlying experience, and you understand how they affect the primitive mind, and, in a similar way, the primitive psyche in ourselves. Spirit, spiritus, or pneuma really means air, wind, breath; spiritus and pneuma in their archetypal character are dynamic and half-substantial agencies: you are moved by them as by a wind, they are breathed into you, and then you are inflated.

[360] The projected archetypal figures can just as well be of negative character, like images of the sorcerer, the devil, of demons and so on. Even analysts are not at all quite fireproof in that respect. I know colleagues who produce the most marvellous fantasies about myself and believe that I am in league with the devil and work black magic. And with people who never before thought that there was such a thing as the devil, the most incredible figures appear in the transference of impersonal contents. The projection of images of parental influence can be dissolved with the ordinary means of normal reasoning and common sense; but you cannot destroy the hold of impersonal images by mere reason. It would not even be right to destroy them, because they are tremendously important. In order to explain this, I am afraid I shall have to refer again to the history of the human mind.

[361] It is no new discovery that archetypal images are projected. They actually have to be projected, otherwise they inundate consciousness. The problem is merely to have a form which is an adequate container. There is, as a matter of fact, an age-old institution which helps people to project impersonal images. You know it very well: you all probably have gone through the procedure, but unfortunately you were too young to recognize its importance. This institution is religious initiation, and with us it is baptism. When the fascinating and unique influence of the parental images has to be loosened, so that the child is liberated from his original biological participation with the parents, then Nature, that is the unconscious nature in man, in her infinite wisdom produces a certain kind of initiation. You find it with very primitive tribes—it is the initiation into manhood, into participation in the spiritual and social life of the tribe. In the course of the differentiation of consciousness, initiation has undergone many changes of form, until with us it was elaborated into the Christian institution of baptism. In baptism, there are two necessary functionaries, godfather and godmother. In our Swiss dialect we call them by the names of God, “Götti” and “Gotte.” “Götti” is the masculine form, it means the begetter; “Gotte” is the feminine form. The word “God” has nothing to do with “good”; it really means the Begetter. Baptism and the spiritual parents in the form of godfather and godmother express the mysterium of being twice-born. You know that all the higher castes in India have the honorific title of “Twiceborn.” It was also the prerogative of the Pharaoh to be twice-born. Therefore very often you find in Egyptian temples beside the main room the so-called birth-chamber where one or two rooms were reserved for the rite. In them the Pharaoh’s twofold birth is described, how he is born in the flesh as a human being from ordinary parents, but is also generated by the god and carried and given birth to by the goddess. He is born the son of man and of God.

[362] Our baptism means the detaching of the child from the merely natural parents and from the overpowering influence of the parental images. For this purpose, the biological parents are replaced by spiritual parents; godfather and godmother represent the intercessio divina through the medium of the Church, which is the visible form of the spiritual kingdom. In the Catholic rite even marriage—where we would suppose it to be all-important that this particular man and this particular woman become united and are confronted with each other—is interfered with by the Church; the intercessio sacerdotis prevents the immediate contact of the couple. The priest represents the Church, and the Church is always in between in the form of confession, which is obligatory. This intervention is not due to the particular cunning of the Church; it is rather her great wisdom, and it is an idea going back to the very origins of Christianity that we are not married merely as man and woman; we are married in Christo. I own an antique vase upon which an early Christian marriage is represented. The man and the woman hold each other’s hand in the Fish; the Fish is between them, and the Fish is Christ. In this way the couple is united in the Fish. They are separated and united by Christ; Christ is in between, he is the representative of the power which is meant to separate man from merely natural forces.

[363] This process of separation from nature is undergone in the well-known initiation rites or puberty rites of primitive tribes. When they approach puberty, the boys are called away suddenly. In the night they hear the voice of the spirits, the bull-roarers, and no woman is allowed to appear out of the house, or she is killed instantly. Then the boys are brought out to the bush-house, where they are put through all sorts of gruesome performances. They are not allowed to speak; they are told that they are dead, and then they are told that they are now reborn. They are given new names in order to prove that they are no more the same personalities as before, and so they are no longer the children of their parents. The initiation can even go so far that, after they return, the mothers are not allowed to talk to their sons any more, because the young men are no longer their children. Formerly, with the Hottentots, the boy had occasionally even to perform incest once with his mother in order to prove that she was not his mother any more, but just a woman like the rest.

[364] Our corresponding Christian rite has lost much of its importance, but if you study the symbolism of baptism you still see traces of the original meaning. Our birth-chamber is the baptismal font; this is really the piscina, the fish-pond in which one is like a little fish; one is symbolically drowned and then revived. You know that the early Christians were actually plunged into the baptismal font, and this used to be much larger than it is now; in many old churches the baptistry was a building on its own, and it was always built on the ground-plan of a circle. On the day before Easter, the Catholic Church has a special ceremony for the consecration of the baptismal font, the Benedictio Fontis. The merely natural water is exorcised from the admixture of all malign powers and transformed into the regenerating and purifying fountain of life, the immaculate womb of the divine source. Then the priest divides the water in the fourfold form of the cross, breathes upon it three times, plunges the consecrated Easter candle three times into it, as a symbol of the eternal light, and at the same time his incantation brings the virtue, the power of the Spiritus Sanctus to descend into the font. From this hierosgamos, from the holy marriage between the Spiritus Sanctus and the baptismal water as the womb of the Church, man is reborn in the true innocence of new childhood. The maculation of sin is taken from him and his nature is joined with the image of God. He is no longer contaminated by merely natural forces, he is regenerated as a spiritual being.
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Re: The Tavistock Lectures: On the Theory and Practice of An

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[365] We know of other institutions for detaching man from natural conditions. I can’t go into much detail, but if you study the psychology of primitives, you find that all important events of life are connected with elaborate ceremonies whose purpose is to detach man from the preceding stage of existence and to help him to transfer his psychic energy into the next phase. When a girl marries, she ought to be detached from the parental images and should not become attached to a projection of the father-image into the husband. Therefore in Babylon a peculiar ritual was observed whose purpose was to detach the young girl from the father-image. This is the rite of temple prostitution, in which girls of good families had to hand themselves over to a stranger visiting the temple, who presumably would never return, and had to spend a night with him. We know of a similar institution in the Middle Ages, the jus primae noctis, the right of the first night which the feudal lord had in regard to his serfs. The bride had to spend her wedding-night with her feudal lord. By the rite of temple prostitution, a most impressive image was created which collided with the image of the man the young woman was going to marry, and so when there was trouble in marriage—for even in those days trouble occasionally arose—the regression which is the natural result would not go back to the father-image but to the stranger she had once met, the lover who came from unknown lands. Then she did not fall back into childhood but upon a human being suited to her age, and so was sufficiently protected against infantile regression.

[366] This ritual shows a very beautiful observation of the human psyche. For there is an archetypal image in women of a lover in a remote, unknown land, a man coming over the seas who meets her once and then goes away again. You know this motif from Wagner’s Flying Dutchman and from Ibsen’s Lady from the Sea. In both dramas the heroine is waiting for the stranger who will come from far over the seas to have the great love experience with her. In Wagner’s opera she has fallen in love with the actual image of him and knows him even before he arrives. The Lady from the Sea has met him once before and is under the compulsion of always going to the sea to await his return. In that Babylonian rite this archetypal image is lived concretely in order to detach the woman from the parental images which are real archetypal images and therefore exceedingly powerful. I have written a little book about the relations between the ego and the unconscious,6 where I have described a case of projection of the father-image by a woman who was under my treatment, and how the problem then developed through the analysis of the archetypal image which was at the basis of this father transference.

[367] The first stage of the treatment of the transference does not involve only the realization by the patient that he is still looking at the world from the angle of the nursery, school-room, and so on, by projecting and expecting all the positive and negative authoritative figures of his personal experience; this realization merely deals with the objective side. To establish a really mature attitude, he has to see the subjective value of all these images which seem to create trouble for him. He has to assimilate them into his own psychology; he has to find out in what way they are part of himself; how he attributes for instance a positive value to an object, when as a matter of fact it is he who could and should develop this value. And in the same way, when he projects negative qualities and therefore hates and loathes the object, he has to discover that he is projecting his own inferior side, his shadow, as it were, because he prefers to have an optimistic and one-sided image of himself. Freud, as you know, deals only with the objective side. But you cannot really help a patient to assimilate the contents of his neurosis by indulgence in a childish lack of responsibility, or by resignation to a blind fate of which he is the victim. His neurosis means him to become a total personality, and that includes recognition of and responsibility for his whole being, his good and his bad sides, his superior as well as his inferior functions.

[368] Let us now assume that the projection of personal images has been worked through and is sufficiently dealt with, but there is still a transference which you simply cannot dissolve. Then we come to the second stage in the therapy of transference. That is the discrimination between personal and impersonal contents. The personal projections, as we have seen, must be dissolved; and they can be dissolved through conscious realization. But the impersonal projections cannot be destroyed because they belong to the structural elements of the psyche. They are not relics of a past which has to be outgrown; they are, on the contrary, purposive and compensatory functions of the utmost importance. They are an important protection against situations in which a man might lose his head. In any situation of panic, whether external or internal, the archetypes intervene and allow a man to react in an instinctively adapted way, just as if he had always known the situation: he reacts in the way mankind has always reacted. Therefore the mechanism is of vital importance.

[369] It goes without saying that the projection of these impersonal images upon the analyst has to be withdrawn. But you merely dissolve the act of projection; you should not, and really cannot, dissolve its contents. Neither, of course, can the patient assimilate the impersonal contents into his personal psychology. The fact that they are impersonal contents is just the reason for projecting them; one feels that they do not belong to one’s subjective mind, they must be located somewhere outside one’s ego, and, for lack of a suitable form, a human object is made their receptacle. So you have to be exceedingly careful in handling impersonal projections. It would, for instance, be a great mistake to say to a patient: “You see, you simply project the saviour-image into me. What nonsense to expect a saviour and to make me responsible.” If you meet such an expectation, take it seriously; it is by no means nonsense. The whole world has a saviour expectation; you find it everywhere. Look at Italy, for instance, or look at Germany. At present you have no saviour in England, and in Switzerland we have none; but I don’t believe that we are so very different from the rest of Europe. The situation with us is slightly different from that of the Italians and Germans; they are perhaps a little bit less balanced; but even with us it would need precious little. In those countries you have the saviour complex as mass psychology. The saviour complex is an archetypal image of the collective unconscious, and it quite naturally becomes activated in an epoch so full of trouble and disorientation as ours. In these collective events, we merely see, as through a magnifying glass, what can also happen within the individual. It is in just such a moment of panic that the compensatory psychic elements come into action. It is not at all an abnormal phenomenon. It is perhaps strange to us that it should be expressed in political form. But the collective unconscious is a very irrational factor, and our rational consciousness cannot dictate to it how it should make its appearance. Of course, if left entirely to itself, its activation can be very destructive; it can, for instance, be a psychosis. Therefore, man’s relation to the collective unconscious has always been regulated; there is a characteristic form by which the archetypal images are expressed. For the collective unconscious is a function that always operates, and man has to keep in touch with it. His psychic and spiritual health is dependent on the co-operation of the impersonal images. Therefore man has always had his religions.

[370] What are religions? Religions are psychotherapeutic systems. What are we doing, we psychotherapists? We are trying to heal the suffering of the human mind, of the human psyche or the human soul, and religions deal with the same problem. Therefore our Lord himself is a healer; he is a doctor; he heals the sick and he deals with the troubles of the soul; and that is exactly what we call psychotherapy. It is not a play on words when I call religion a psychotherapeutic system. It is the most elaborate system, and there is a great practical truth behind it. I have a clientele which is pretty large and extends over a number of continents, and where I live we are practically surrounded by Catholics; but during the last thirty years I have not had more than about six practising Catholics among my patients. The vast majority were Protestants and Jews. I once sent round a questionnaire to people whom I did not know, asking: “If you were in psychological trouble what would you do? Would you go to the doctor or would you go to the priest or parson?” I cannot remember the actual figures; but I remember that about twenty per cent of the Protestants said they would go to the parson. All the rest were most emphatically against the parson and for the doctor, and the most emphatic were the relatives and children of parsons. There was one Chinese who replied, and he put it very nicely. He remarked: “When I am young I go to the doctor, and when I am old I go to the philosopher.” But about fifty-eight or sixty per cent of the Catholics answered that they would certainly go to the priest. That proves that the Catholic Church in particular, with its rigorous system of confession and its director of conscience, is a therapeutic institution. I have had some patients who, after having had analysis with me, even joined the Catholic Church, just as I have had some patients who now go to the so-called Oxford Group Movement—with my blessing! I think it is perfectly correct to make use of these psychotherapeutic institutions which history has given to us, and I wish I were still a medieval man who could join such a creed. Unfortunately it needs a somewhat medieval psychology to do it, and I am not sufficiently medieval. But you see from this that I take the archetypal images and a suitable form for their projection seriously, because the collective unconscious is really a serious factor in the human psyche.

[371] All those personal things like incestuous tendencies and other childish tunes are mere surface; what the unconscious really contains are the great collective events of the time. In the collective unconscious of the individual, history prepares itself; and when the archetypes are activated in a number of individuals and come to the surface, we are in the midst of history, as we are at present. The archetypal image which the moment requires gets into life, and everybody is seized by it. That is what we see today. I saw it coming, I said in 1918 that the “blond beast” is stirring in its sleep and that something will happen in Germany.7 No psychologist then understood at all what I meant, because people had simply no idea that our personal psychology is just a thin skin, a ripple upon the ocean of collective psychology. The powerful factor, the factor which changes our whole life, which changes the surface of our known world, which makes history, is collective psychology, and collective psychology moves according to laws entirely different from those of our consciousness. The archetypes are the great decisive forces, they bring about the real events, and not our personal reasoning and practical intellect. Before the Great War all intelligent people said: “We shall not have any more war, we are far too reasonable to let it happen, and our commerce and finance are so interlaced internationally that war is absolutely out of the question.” And then we produced the most gorgeous war ever seen. And now they begin to talk that foolish kind of talk about reason and peace plans and such things; they blindfold themselves by clinging to a childish optimism—and now look at reality! Sure enough, the archetypal images decide the fate of man. Man’s unconscious psychology decides, and not what we think and talk in the brain-chamber up in the attic.

[372] Who would have thought in 1900 that it would be possible thirty years later for such things to happen in Germany as are happening today? Would you have believed that a whole nation of highly intelligent and cultivated people could be seized by the fascinating power of an archetype? I saw it coming, and I can understand it because I know the power of the collective unconscious. But on the surface it looks simply incredible. Even my personal friends are under that fascination, and when I am in Germany, I believe it myself, I understand it all, I know it has to be as it is. One cannot resist it. It gets you below the belt and not in your mind, your brain just counts for nothing, your sympathetic system is gripped. It is a power that fascinates people from within, it is the collective unconscious which is activated, it is an archetype which is common to them all that has come to life. And because it is an archetype, it has historical aspects and we cannot understand the events without knowing history.8 It is German history that is being lived today, just as Fascism is living Italian history. We cannot be children about it, having intellectual and reasonable ideas and saying: this should not be. That is just childish. This is real history, this is what really happens to man and has always happened, and it is far more important than our personal little woes and our personal convictions. I know highly educated Germans who were just as reasonable as I think I am or as you think you are. But a wave went over them and just washed their reason away, and when you talk to them you have to admit that they could not do anything about it. An incomprehensible fate has seized them, and you cannot say it is right, or it is wrong. It has nothing to do with rational judgment, it is just history. And when your patient’s transference touches upon the archetypes, you touch upon a mine that may explode, just as we see it explode collectively. These impersonal images contain enormous dynamic power. Bernard Shaw says in Man and Superman: “This creature Man, who in his own selfish affairs is a coward to the backbone, will fight for an idea like a hero.”9 Of course, we would not call Fascism or Hitlerism ideas. They are archetypes, and so we would say: Give an archetype to the people and the whole crowd moves like one man, there is no resisting it.

[373] On account of this tremendous dynamic power of archetypal images you cannot reason them away. Therefore the only thing to do at the third stage of the therapy of the transference is to differentiate the personal relationship to the analyst from impersonal factors. It is perfectly understandable that when you have carefully and honestly worked for a patient, he likes you, and because you have done a decent bit of work on a patient, you like him, whether it is a man or a woman. That is quite self-evident. It would be most unnatural and neurotic if there were not some personal recognition on the patient’s part for what you have done for him. A personal human reaction to you is normal and reasonable, therefore let it be, it deserves to live; it is not transference any more. But such an attitude to the analyst is possible in a human and decent form only when it is not vitiated by unrecognized impersonal values. This means that there has to be, on the other side, a full recognition of the importance of the archetypal images, many of which have a religious character. Whether you assume that the Nazi storm in Germany has a religious value or not does not matter. It has. Whether you think that the Duce is a religious figure or not does not matter, because he is a religious figure. You could even read the affirmation of it in a newspaper these days, when they quoted that verse about a Roman Caesar: “Ecce deus, deus ille, Menalca.”10 Fascism is the Latin form of religion, and its religious character explains why the whole thing has such a tremendous fascination.

[374] The consequence of this recognition of the importance of impersonal values may be that your patient joins a Church or a religious creed or whatever it may be. If he cannot bring together his experience of the collective unconscious within a given religious form, then the difficulty begins. Then the impersonal factors have no receptacle, and so the patient falls back into the transference, and the archetypal images spoil the human relation to the analyst. Then the analyst is the saviour, or curse him, he is not when he ought to be! For he is only a human being; he cannot be the saviour nor any other archetypal image which is activated in the patient’s unconscious.

[375] On account of that enormously difficult and important problem I have worked out a particular technique for restoring these projected impersonal values to the individual himself. It is a rather complicated technique, and last night I was just about to show you something of it in relation to that dream. For when the unconscious says that below the Christian Church is the secret chamber with the golden bowl and the golden dagger, it does not lie. The unconscious is nature, and nature never lies. There is gold, there is the treasure and the great value.

[376] If I had had the opportunity I would have gone on and told you something about that treasure and the means to secure it. And then you would have seen the justification for the method which enables the individual to keep in touch with his impersonal images. As it is. I can only allude to it and must refer you to my books for further material.11

[377] I call this fourth stage of the therapy of transference the objectivation of impersonal images. It is an essential part of the process of individuation.12 Its goal is to detach consciousness from the object so that the individual no longer places the guarantee of his happiness, or of his life even, in factors outside himself, whether they be persons, ideas, or circumstances, but comes to realize that everything depends on whether he holds the treasure or not. If the possession of that gold is realized, then the centre of gravity is in the individual and no longer in an object on which he depends. To reach such a condition of detachment is the aim of Eastern practices, and it is also the aim of all the teachings of the Church. In the various religions the treasure is projected into the sacred figures, but this hypostasis is no longer possible for the modern enlightened mind. A great number of individuals cannot express their impersonal values in historical symbols any more.

[378] They are therefore faced with the necessity of finding an individual method by which the impersonal images are given shape. For they have to take on form, they have to live their characteristic life, otherwise the individual is severed from the basic function of the psyche, and then he is neurotic, he is disorientated and in conflict with himself. But if he is able to objectify the impersonal images and relate to them, he is in touch with that vital psychological function which from the dawn of consciousness has been taken care of by religion.

[379] It is impossible for me to go into details of the problem, not only because the time for my lecture is over, but because it is beyond scientific conceptions to give adequate expression to a living psychic experience. All we can say rationally about this condition of detachment is to define it as a sort of centre within the psyche of the individual, but not within the ego. It is a non-ego centre. I am afraid I should have to give you a long dissertation on comparative religion in order to convey to you fully what I mean by a non-ego centre.13 So I can only mention the existence of this problem. It is really the essential problem of a great number of individuals who come to analysis, and therefore the psychotherapist has to try to find a method by which he can help them to solve it.

[380] If we adopt such a method, we take up the torch that was abandoned by our old colleagues of the seventeenth century when they put it down in order to become chemists. In so far as we psychologists are emerging from chemical and material conceptions of the psyche, we are taking up that torch again, contury—for alchemy was the work of the doctors who were busy with the mind.).]

Discussion

Question:

[381] May I ask Professor Jung a very elementary question: Would he give us a definition of neurosis?

Professor Jung:

[382] A neurosis is a dissociation of personality due to the existence of complexes. To have complexes is in itself normal; but if the complexes are incompatible, that part of the personality which is too contrary to the conscious part becomes split off. If the split reaches the organic structure, the dissociation is a psychosis, a schizophrenic condition, as the term denotes. Each complex then lives an existence of its own, with no personality left to tie them together.

[383] As the split-off complexes are unconscious, they find only an indirect means of expression, that is, through neurotic symptoms. Instead of suffering from a psychological conflict, one suffers from a neurosis. Any incompatibility of character can cause dissociation, and too great a split between the thinking and the feeling function, for instance, is already a slight neurosis. When you are not quite at one with yourself in a given matter, you are approaching a neurotic condition. The idea of psychic dissociation is the most general and cautious way I can define a neurosis. Of course it does not cover the symptomatology and phenomenology of neurosis; it is only the most general psychological formulation I am able to give.

Dr. H. G. Baynes:

[384] You said that transference is of no practical value in analysis. Is it not possible to give it a teleological value?

Professor Jung:

[385] I have not said it in so many words, but the teleological value of transference becomes apparent from an analysis of its archetypal contents. Its purposive value is also shown in what I said about transference as a function of compensation for a lack of rapport between the analyst and the patient—at least if one assumes that it is normal for human beings to be en rapport with each other. Of course I could imagine that an introverted philosopher is rather inclined to think that people have no contacts. For instance, Schopenhauer says that human egotism is so great that a man can kill his brother in order to smear his boots with his brother’s fat.

Dr. Henry V. Dicks:

[386] I think we can assume then, Professor Jung, that you regard the outbreak of a neurosis as an attempt at self-cure, as an attempt at compensation by bringing out the inferior function?

Professor Jung:

[387] Absolutely.

Dr. Dicks:

[388] I understand, then, that the outbreak of a neurotic illness, from the point of view of man’s development, is something favourable?

Professor Jung:

[389] That is so, and I am glad you bring up that idea. That is really my point of view. I am not altogether pessimistic about neurosis. In many cases we have to say: “Thank heaven he could make up his mind to be neurotic.” Neurosis is really an attempt at self-cure, just as any physical disease is part an attempt at selfcure. We cannot understand a disease as an ens per se any more, as something detached which not so long ago it was believed to be. Modern medicine—internal medicine, for instance— conceives of disease as a system composed of a harmful factor and a healing factor. It is exactly the same with neurosis. It is an attempt of the self-regulating psychic system to restore the balance, in no way different from the function of dreams—only rather more forceful and drastic.

Dr. J. A. Hadfield:

[390] Would Professor Jung give us a short account of the technique of active imagination?

Professor Jung:

[391] That was the subject I really wanted to tell you about today in consequence of the analysis of the Toledo dream, so I am very glad to take it up. You will realize that I shall not be able to present any empirical material, but I may succeed in giving you an idea of the method. I believe that the best way is to tell you of a case where it was very difficult to teach the patient the method.

[392] I was treating a young artist, and he had the greatest trouble in understanding what I meant by active imagination. He tried all sorts of things but he could not get at it. The difficulty with him was that he could not think. Musicians, painters, artists of all kinds, often can’t think at all, because they never intentionally use their brain. This man’s brain too was always working for itself; it had its artistic imaginations and he couldn’t use it psychologically, so he couldn’t understand. I gave him every chance to try, and he tried all sorts of stunts. I cannot tell you all the things he did, but I will tell you how he finally succeeded in using his imagination psychologically.

[393] I live outside the town, and he had to take the train to get to my place. It starts from a small station, and on the wall of that station was a poster. Each time he waited for his train he looked at that poster. The poster was an advertisement for Mürren in the Bernese Alps, a colourful picture of the waterfalls, of a green meadow and a hill in the centre, and on that hill were several cows. So he sat there staring at that poster and thinking that he could not find out what I meant by active imagination. And then one day he thought: “Perhaps I could start by having a fantasy about that poster. I might for instance imagine that I am myself in the poster, that the scenery is real and that I could walk up the hill among the cows and then look down on the other side, and then I might see what there is behind that hill.”

[394] So he went to the station for that purpose and imagined that he was in the poster. He saw the meadow and the road and walked up the hill among the cows, and then he came up to the top and looked down, and there was the meadow again, sloping down, and below was a hedge with a stile. So he walked down and over the stile, and there was a little footpath that ran round a ravine, and a rock, and when he came round that rock, there was a small chapel, with its door standing a little ajar. He thought he would like to enter, and so he pushed the door open and went in, and there upon an altar decorated with pretty flowers stood a wooden figure of the Mother of God. He looked up at her face, and in that exact moment something with pointed ears disappeared behind the altar. He thought, “Well, that’s all nonsense,” and instantly the whole fantasy was gone.

[395] He went away and said, “Now again I haven’t understood what active imagination is.” And then, suddenly, the thought struck him: “Well, perhaps that really was there: perhaps that thing behind the Mother of God, with the pointed ears, that disappeared like a flash, really happened.” Therefore he said to himself: “I will just try it all over as a test.” So he imagined that he was back in the station looking at the poster, and again he fantasied that he was walking up the hill. And when he came to the top of the hill, he wondered what he would see on the other side. And there was the hedge and the stile and the hill sloping down. He said. “Well, so far so good. Things haven’t moved since, apparently.” And he went round the rock, and there was the chapel. He said: “There is the chapel, that at least is no illusion. It is all quite in order.” The door stood ajar and he was quite pleased. He hesitated a moment and said: “Now, when I push that door open and I see the Madonna on the altar, then that thing with the pointed ears should jump down behind the Madonna, and if it doesn’t, then the whole thing is bunk!” And so he pushed the door open and looked—and there it all was and the thing jumped down, as before, and then he was convinced. From then on he had the key and knew he could rely on his imagination, and so he learned to use it.

[396] There is no time to tell you about the development of his images, nor how other patients arrive at the method. For of course everybody gets at it in his own way. I can only mention that it might also be a dream or an impression of a hypnagogic nature from which active imagination can start. I really prefer the term “imagination” to “fantasy,” because there is a difference between the two which the old doctors had in mind when they said that “opus nostrum,” our work, ought to be done “per veram imaginationem et non phantastica”—by true imagination and not by a fantastical one.13 In other words, if you take the correct meaning of this definition, fantasy is mere nonsense, a phantasm, a fleeting impression; but imagination is active, purposeful creation. And this is exactly the distinction I make too.

[397] A fantasy is more or less your own invention, and remains on the surface of personal things and conscious expectations. But active imagination, as the term denotes, means that the images have a life of their own and that the symbolic events develop according to their own logic— that is, of course, if your conscious reason does not interfere. You begin by concentrating upon a starting point. I will give you an example from my own experience. When I was a little boy, I had a spinster aunt who lived in a nice old-fashioned house. It was full of beautiful old coloured engravings. Among them was a picture of my grandfather on my mother’s side. He was a sort of bishop, and he was represented as coming out of his house and standing on a little terrace. There were handrails and stairs coming down from the terrace, and a footpath leading to the cathedral. He was in full regalia, standing there at the top of the terrace. Every Sunday morning I was allowed to pay a call on my aunt, and then I knelt on a chair and looked at that picture until grandfather came down the steps. And each time my aunt would say, “But, my dear, he doesn’t walk, he is still standing there.” But I knew I had seen him walking down.

[398] You see how it happened that the picture began to move. And in the same way, when you concentrate on a mental picture, it begins to stir, the image becomes enriched by details, it moves and develops. Each time, naturally, you mistrust it and have the idea that you have just made it up, that it is merely your own invention. But you have to overcome that doubt, because it is not true. We can really produce precious little by our conscious mind. All the time we are dependent upon the things that literally fall into our consciousness; therefore in German we call them Einfälle. For instance, if my unconscious should prefer not to give me ideas, I could not proceed with my lecture, because I could not invent the next step. You all know the experience when you want to mention a name or a word which you know quite well, and it simply does not present itself; but some time later it drops into your memory. We depend entirely upon the benevolent co-operation of our unconscious. If it does not co-operate, we are completely lost. Therefore I am convinced that we cannot do much in the way of conscious invention; we over-estimate the power of intention and the will. And so when we concentrate on an inner picture and when we are careful not to interrupt the natural flow of events, our unconscious will produce a series of images which make a complete story.

[399] I have tried that method with many patients and for many years, and I possess a large collection of such “opera.” It is most interesting to watch the process. Of course I don’t use active imagination as a panacea; there have to be definite indications that the method is suitable for the individual, and there are a number of patients with whom it would be wrong to force it upon them. But often in the later stage of analysis, the objectivation of images replaces the dreams. The images anticipate the dreams, and so the dream-material begins to peter out. The unconscious becomes deflated in so far as the conscious mind relates to it. Then you get all the material in a creative form and this has great advantages over dream-material. It quickens the process of maturation, for analysis is a process of quickened maturation. This definition is not my own invention; the old professor Stanley Hall invented the term.

[400] Since by active imagination all the material is produced in a conscious state of mind, the material is far more rounded out than the dreams with their precarious language. And it contains much more than dreams do; for instance, the feeling-values are in it, and one can judge it by feeling. Quite often, the patients themselves feel that certain material contains a tendency to visibility. They say, for instance: “That dream was so impressive, if I only could paint I would try to express its atmosphere.” Or they feel that a certain idea should be expressed not rationally but in symbols. Or they are gripped by an emotion which, if given form, would be explainable, and so on. And so they begin to draw, to paint, or to shape their images plastically, and women sometimes do weaving. I have even had one or two women who danced their unconscious figures. Of course, they can also be expressed in writing.

[401] I have many complete series of such pictures. They yield an enormous amount of archetypal material. Just now I am about to work out the historical parallels of some of them. I compare them with the pictorial material produced in similar attempts in past centuries, particularly in the early Middle Ages. Certain elements of the symbolism go back to Egypt. In the East we find many interesting parallels to our unconscious material, even down to the last details. This comparative work gives us a most valuable insight into the structure of the unconscious. You have to hand the necessary parallels to the patients too, not of course in such an elaborate way as you would present it in a scientific study, but as much as each individual needs in order to understand his archetypal images. For he can see their real meaning only when they are not just a queer subjective experience with no external connections, but a typical, ever-recurring expression of the objective facts and processes of the human psyche. By objectifying his impersonal images, and understanding their inherent ideas, the patient is able to work out all the values of his archetypal material. Then he can really see it, and the unconscious becomes understandable to him. Moreover, this work has a definite effect upon him. Whatever he has put into it works back on him and produces a change of attitude which I tried to define by mentioning the non-ego centre.

[402] I will give you an interesting example. I had a case, a university man, a very one-sided intellectual. His unconscious had become troubled and activated; so it projected itself into other men who appeared to be his enemies, and he felt terribly lonely, because everybody seemed to be against him. Then he began to drink in order to forget his troubles, but he got exceedingly irritable and in these moods he began to quarrel with other men, and several times he had very disagreeable encounters, and once he was thrown out of a restaurant and got beaten up. And there were more incidents of that sort. Then things became really too thick for his endurance, and he came to me to ask my advice about what he should do. In that interview, I got a very definite impression of him: I saw that he was chock-full of archaic material, and I said to myself: “Now I am going to make an interesting experiment to get that material absolutely pure, without any influence from myself, and therefore I won’t touch it.” So I sent him to a woman doctor who was then just a beginner and who did not know much about archetypal material. Thus I was absolutely sure that she would not tamper with it. The patient was in such low spirits that he did not object to my proposition. So he worked with her and did everything she said.14

[403] She told him to watch his dreams, and he wrote them all down carefully, from the first to the last. I now have a series of about thirteen hundred dreams of his. They contain the most marvellous series of archetypal images. And quite naturally, without being told to do so, he began to draw a number of pictures which he saw in his dreams, because he felt them to be very important. And in this work on his dreams and on these pictures he did exactly the kind of work which other patients do by active imagination. He even invented active imagination for himself in order to work out certain most intricate problems which his dreams presented him with, as for instance how to balance the contents of a circle, and more things like this. He worked out the problem of the perpetuum mobile, not in a crazy way but in a symbolic way. He worked on all the problems which medieval philosophy was so keen on and of which our rational mind says. “That is all nonsense.” Such a statement only shows that we do not understand. They did understand: we are the fools, not they.

[404] In the course of this analysis, which took him through about the first four hundred dreams, he was not under my surveillance. After the first interview I did not see him at all for eight months. He was five months with that doctor, and then for three months he was doing the work all by himself, continuing the observation of his unconscious with minute accuracy. He was very gifted in this respect. In the end, for about two months, he had a number of interviews with me. But I did not have to explain much of the symbolism to him.

[405] The effect of this work with his unconscious was that he became a perfectly normal and reasonable person. He did not drink any more, he became completely adapted and in every respect completely normal. The reason for this is quite obvious: that man—he was not married—had lived in a very one-sided intellectual way, and naturally had certain desires and needs also. But he had no chance with women at all, because he had no differentiation of feeling whatsoever. So he made a fool of himself with women at once, and of course they had no patience with him. And he made himself very disagreeable to men, so he was frightfully lonely. But now he had found something that fascinated him; he had a new centre of interest. He soon discovered that his dreams pointed to something very meaningful, and so his whole intuitive and scientific interest was aroused. Instead of feeling like a lost sheep, he thought: “Ah, when I am through with my work in the evening, I go to my study, and then I shall see what happens. I will work over my dreams, and then I shall discover extraordinary things.” And so it was. Of course rational judgment would say that he just fell violently into his fantasies. But that was not the case at all. He did a real bit of hard work on his unconscious, and he worked out his images scientifically. When he came to me after his three months alone, he was already almost normal. Only he still felt uncertain; he was troubled because he could not understand some of the material he had dug up from the unconscious. He asked my advice about it, and I most carefully gave him certain hints as to its meaning, but only so far as this could help him to keep on with the work and carry it through.

[406] At the end of the year I am going to publish a selection from his first four hundred dreams, where I show the development of one motif only, the central motif of these archetypal images.15 There will be an English translation later, and then you will have the opportunity to see how the method works in a case absolutely untouched by myself, or by any other outside suggestion. It is a most amazing series of images and really shows what active imagination can do. You understand, in this case it was only partially a method for objectifying the images in plastic form, because many of the symbols appeared directly in the dreams; but all the same it shows the kind of atmosphere which active imagination can produce. I have patients who, evening after evening, work at these images, painting and shaping their observations and experiences. The work has a fascination for them; it is the fascination which the archetypes always exert upon consciousness. But by objectifying them, the danger of their inundating consciousness is averted and their positive effect is made accessible. It is almost impossible to define this effect in rational terms; it is a sort of “magical” effect, that is, a suggestive influence which goes out from the images to the individual, and in this way his unconscious is extended and is changed.

[407] I am told that Dr. Bennet has brought some pictures by a patient. Will he be so kind as to show them?

This picture (Figure 14) is meant to represent a bowl or vase. Of course it is very clumsily expressed and is a mere attempt, a suggestion of a vase or bowl. The motif of the vessel is itself an archetypal image which has a certain purpose, and I can prove from this picture what the purpose is. A vessel is an instrument for containing things. It contains for instance liquids, and prevents them from getting dispersed. Our German word for vessel is Gefäss, which is the noun of fassen, that is, to set, to contain, to take hold of. The word Fassung means the setting, and also, metaphorically, composure, to remain collected. So the vessel in this picture indicates the movement of containing in order to gather in and to hold together. You have to hold something together which otherwise would fall asunder. From the way this picture is composed, and from certain features in it, it is obvious that the psychology of this man contains a number of disparate elements. It is a picture characteristic of a schizophrenic condition. I do not know the case at all, but Dr. Bennet confirms that my conclusion is correct. You see the disparate elements all over the picture; there are a number of things which are not motivated and which don’t belong together. Moreover, you see peculiar lines dividing the field. These lines are characteristic of a schizophrenic mentality; I call them the breaking lines. When a schizophrenic paints a picture of himself, he naturally expresses the schizophrenic split in his own mental structure, and so you find these breaking lines which often go right through a particular figure, like the breaking lines in a mirror. In this picture, the figures themselves show no breaking lines; they only go all over the field.


Image
FIG.14. Painting by a patient

[408] This man, then, tries to gather in all the disparate elements into the vessel. The vessel is meant to be the receptacle for his whole being, for all the incompatible units. If he tried to gather them into his ego, it would be an impossible task, because the ego can be identical only with one part at a time. So he indicates by the symbol of the vessel that he is trying to find a container for everything, and therefore he gives a hint at a non-ego centre by that sort of ball or globe in the middle.

[409] The picture is an attempt at self-cure. It brings all the disparate elements into the light, and it also tries to put them together into that vessel. This idea of a receptacle is an archetypal idea. You find it everywhere, and it is one of the central motifs of unconscious pictures. It is the idea of the magic circle which is drawn round something that has to be prevented from escaping or protected against hostile influences. The magic circle as an apotropaic charm is an archaic idea which you still find in folklore. For instance, if a man digs for a treasure, he draws the magic circle round the field in order to keep the devil out. When the ground-plan of a city was set out, there used to be a ritual walk or ride round the circumference in order to protect the place within. In some Swiss villages, it is still the custom for the priest and the town council to ride round the fields when the blessing is administered for the protection of the harvest. In the centre of the magic circle or sacred precinct is the temple. One of the most wonderful examples of this idea is the temple of Borobudur in Java. The walk round, the circumambulatio, is done in a spiral: the pilgrims pass the figures of all the different lives of the Buddha, until on the top there is the invisible Buddha, the Buddha yet to come. The groundplan of Borobudur is a circle within a square. This structure is called in Sanskrit a mandala. The word means a circle, particularly a magic circle. In the East, you find the mandala not only as the ground-plan of temples, but as pictures in the temples, or drawn for the day of certain religious festivals. In the very centre of the mandala there is the god or the symbol of divine energy, the diamond thunderbolt. Round this innermost circle is a cloister with four gates. Then comes a garden, and round this there is another circle which is the outer circumference.

[410] The symbol of the mandala has exactly this meaning of a holy place, a temenos, to protect the centre. And it is a symbol which is one of the most important motifs in the objectivation of unconscious images.16 It is a means of protecting the centre of the personality from being drawn out and from being influenced from outside.

[411] This picture by Dr. Bennet’s patient is an attempt to draw such a mandala. It has a centre, and it contains all his psychic elements, and the vase would be the magic circle, the temenos, round which he has to do the circumambulatio. Attention is thus directed towards the centre, and at the same time all the disparate elements come under observation and an attempt is made to unify them. The cirumambulatio had always to be done clockwise. If one turned round in the other direction it was very unfavourable. The idea of the circumambulatio in this picture is the patient’s first attempt to find a centre and a container for his whole psyche. But he does not succeed. The design shows no balance, and the vase is toppling over. It even topples over towards the left, towards the side of the unconscious. So the unconscious is still too powerful. If he wants his apotropaic magic to work, he must do it in a different way. We shall see what he does in the next picture.

[412] In this picture (Figure 15) he makes an attempt at symmetry. Now these disparate, monstrous things which he could not grasp before are collected and assimilated into more favourable, less pathological forms. He can now gather the living units of his unconscious, in the form of snakes, into the sacred vase. And the vase stands firm, it does not topple over any more, and its shape has improved. He does not succeed yet with his intention; but at least he can give his animals some form. They are all animals of the underworld, fishes that live in the deep sea, and snakes of the darkness. They symbolize the lower centres of his psychology, the sympathetic system. A most remarkable thing is that he also gathers in the stars. That means that the cosmos, his world, is collected into the picture. It is an allusion to the unconscious astrology which is in our bones, though we are unaware of it. At the top of the whole picture is the personification of the unconscious, a naked anima-figure who turns her back. That is a typical position; in the beginning of the objectivation of these images the anima-figure often turns her back. At the foot of the vase are eight figures of the crescent moon; the moon is also a symbol of the unconscious. A man’s unconscious is the lunar world, for it is the night world, and this is characterized by the moon, and Luna is a feminine designation, because the unconscious is feminine. There are still various breaking lines which disturb the harmony. But I should assume that if no particular trouble interferes, the patient will most likely continue along this constructive line. I should say that there is hope that he might come round altogether, because the appearance of the anima is rather a positive sign. She also is a sort of vase, for in the beginning she incorporates the whole of the unconscious, instead of its being scattered in all the various units. Also, the patient tries to separate the motifs to the right and to the left, and this indicates an attempt at conscious orientation. The ball or globe in the first picture has disappeared, but this is not a negative sign. The whole vessel is the centre, and he has corrected the toppling over of the vase, it stands quite firmly on its base. All this shows that he is really making an attempt to put himself right.

Image
FIG.15. Painting by a patient

[413] The pictures should be given back to the patient because they are very important. You can get copies; patients like to do copies for the doctor. But he should leave the originals with the patients, because they want to look at them; and when they look at them they feel that their unconscious is expressed. The objective form works back on them and they become enchanted. The suggestive influence of the picture reacts on the psychological system of the patient and induces the same effect which he put into the picture. That is the reason for idols, for the magic use of sacred images, of icons. They cast their magic into our system and put us right, provided we put ourselves into them. If you put yourself into the icon, the icon will speak to you. Take a Lamaic mandala which has a Budda in the centre, or a Shiva, and, to the extent that you can put yourself into it, it answers and comes into you. It has a magic effect.

[414] Because these pictures of the unconscious express the actual psychological condition of the individual, you can use them for the purpose of diagnosis. You can tell right away from such a picture where the patient stands, whether he has a schizophrenic disposition or is merely neurotic. You can even tell what his prognosis is. It only needs some experience to make these paintings exceedingly helpful. Of course, one should be careful. One should not be dogmatic and say to every patient, “Now you paint.” There are people who think: “Dr. Jung’s treatment consists in telling his patients to paint,” just as formerly they thought: “He divides them into introverts and extraverts and says ‘you should live in such and such a way, because you belong to this type or that.’ That is certainly not treatment. Each patient is a new problem for the doctor, and he will only be cured of his neurosis if you help him to find his individual way to the solution of his conflicts.

The Chairman:

[415] Ladies and Gentlemen, you have been expressing by your applause something of what you feel about Professor Jung. This is the last time in this group of talks that we will have the honour and pleasure and privilege of hearing Professor Jung. We have only inadequate ways of expressing our thanks to him for these lectures which have been so stimulating, so challenging, which have left us with so many things to think about in the future, things which to all of us, especially those who are practising psychotherapy, are enormously suggestive. I think that is what you meant to do for us, Sir, and that is what you have done. We in this Institute are extremely proud to have had you here talking to us, and all of us, I think, are harbouring the idea that before long you will be back in England to talk to us again and make us think more about these great problems.

_______________

Notes:

1 [The case is discussed more fully in “The Realities of Practical Psychotherapy” (C.W., vol. 16, 2nd edn.), appendix. See also “Concerning Mandala Symbolism” (C.W., vol. 9, i), pars. 656–659 and figs. 7, 8, and 9, showing mandalas painted by this patient.]
 
2 [Supra, pars. 322f.]  

3 [This is actually the same case that was discussed supra, pars. 334f.]  

4 [For Jung’s later views on this problem, see “The Psychology of the Transference” (C.W., vol. 16).]  

5 Two Essays (C.W., vol. 7), pars. 374ff.  

6 Two Essays, pars. 206ff.  

7 “The Role of the Unconscious” (C.W., vol. 10), par. 17.  

8 “Wotan” (C.W., vol. 10).  

9 [Act III. in a speech by Don Juan (Penguin edn., 1952, p. 149).]  

10 [Cf. Virgil, Eclogue V, 64: “ipsa sonant arbusta: ‘deus, deus ille, Menalca!’” (the very groves ring out: “A god is he, a god, Menalcas!”).]  

11 See particularly the “Commentary on The Secret of the Golden Flower” (C.W., vol. 13, and “The Aims of Psychotherapy” (C.W., vol. 16).
 
12 See Psychological Types, Def. 29, and Two Essays, pars, 266ff. [Also “A Study in the Process of Individuation” C.W., vol. 9. iv.]  

13 [Cf. Psychology and Alchemy, pars. 44, 126, 129, 135, 325ff.] [Cf. Psychology and Alchemy (C.W., vol. 12), par. 360.]

14 This case provided the material for Part II of Psychology and Alchemy.]  

15 “Traumsymbole des Individuationsprozesses,” in the Eranos-Jahrbuch 1935. [Now Part II of Psychology and Alchemy.]  

16 [Cf. “Commentary on The Secret of the Golden Flower” (C.W., vol. 13) and “Concerning Mandala Symbolism” (C.W. vol. 9, 1
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