probably entirely to Jung, I do not value as highly as do others who are
not in as close contact with it. I speak of the theory of the
_complexes_, which grew out of the “Diagnostische Assoziationsstudien”
(1906–1910). It itself has neither resulted in a psychological theory
nor has it added an unconstrained insertion to the context of the
psychoanalytic principles. On the other hand, the word “complex” has
gained for itself the right of citizenship in psychoanalysis, as being a
convenient and often an indispensable term for descriptive summaries of
psychologic facts. None other among the names and designations, newly
coined as a result of psychoanalytic needs, has attained such widespread
popularity; but no other term has been so misapplied to the detriment of
clear thinking. In psychoanalytic diction one often spoke of the “return
of the complex” when “the return of the repression” was intended to be
conveyed, or one became accustomed to say “I have a complex against
him,” when more correctly he should have said “a resistance.”
In the years after 1907, which followed the union of the schools of
Vienna and Zürich, psychoanalysis received that extraordinary impetus in
which it still finds itself today. This is positively attested by the
spread of psychoanalytic literature and the increase in the number of
doctors who desire to practice or learn it, also by the mass of attacks
upon it by congresses and learned societies. It has wandered into the
most distant countries, it everywhere shocked psychiatrists, and has
gained the attention of the cultured laity and workers in other
scientific fields. Havelock Ellis, who has followed its development with
sympathy without ever calling himself its adherent, wrote, in 1911, in a
paper for the Australasian Medical Congress: “Freud’s psychoanalysis is
now championed and carried out not only in Austria and in Switzerland,
but in the United States, in England, India, Canada, and, I doubt not,
in Australasia.”[5] A doctor from Chile (probably a German) appeared at
the International Congress in Buenos Ayres, in 1910, and spoke on behalf
of the existence of infantile sexuality and praised the results of
psychoanalytic therapy in obsessions.[6] An English neurologist in
Central India informed me through a distinguished colleague who came to
Europe, that the cases of Mohammedan Indians on whom he had practiced
analysis showed no other etiology of their neuroses than our European
patients.
The introduction of psychoanalysis into North America took place under
particularly glorious auspices. In the autumn of 1909, Jung and myself
were invited by President Stanley Hall, of Clark University, to take
part in the celebration of the twentieth anniversary of the opening of
Clark University, by giving some lectures in German. We found, to our
great astonishment, that the unprejudiced men of that small but
respected pedagogic-philosophical university knew all the psychoanalytic
writings and had honored them in their lectures to their students. Thus
even in prudish America one could, at least in academic circles, discuss
freely and treat scientifically all those things that are regarded as
offensive in life. The five lectures that I improvised at Worcester then
appeared in English in the American Journal of Psychology; later on they
were printed in German under the title, “Über Psychoanalyse.” Jung
lectured on diagnostic association studies and on “conflicts in the
psychic life of the child.” We were rewarded for it with the honorary
degree of LL.D. During this week of celebration at Worcester,
psychoanalysis was represented by five persons. Besides Jung and myself
there were Ferenczi, who had joined me as travelling-companion, Ernest
Jones, then of Toronto University (Canada), now in London, and A. A.
Brill, who was already practising psychoanalysis in New York.
The most noteworthy personal relationship which resulted at Worcester,
was that established with James J. Putnam, teacher of neuropathology at
Harvard University. For years he had expressed a disparaging opinion of
psychoanalysis, but now he befriended it and recommended it to his
countrymen and his colleagues in numerous lectures, rich in content and
fine of form. The respect which he enjoys in America, owing to his
character, his high moral standard and his keen love for truth, was very
helpful to the cause of psychoanalysis and protected it against the
denunciations to which it might otherwise have early succumbed. Yielding
too much to the great ethical and philosophic bent of his nature Putnam
later required of psychoanalysis what, to me, seems an impossible
demand. He wished that it should be pressed into the service of a
certain moral philosophical conception of the universe; but Putnam has
remained the chief prop of the psychoanalytic movement in his native
land.
For the diffusion of this movement Brill and Jones deserve the greatest
credit. With a self-denying industry they constantly brought under the
notice of their countrymen, through their works, the easily observable
fundamental principles of psychoanalysis of everyday life, of the dream
and of the neuroses. Brill has strengthened these influences by his
medical activities and his translations of my writings: Jones, by
illuminating lectures and clever discussions at the American
Congresses.[7] The lack of a rooted scientific tradition and the lesser
rigidity of official authority have been of decided advantage to the
impetus given to psychoanalysis in America by Stanley Hall. It was
characteristic there from the beginning that professors, heads of insane
asylums, as well as independent practitioners, all showed themselves
equally interested in psychoanalysis. But just for this very reason it
is clear that the fight for psychoanalysis must be fought to a decisive
end, where the greater resistance has been met with, namely, in the
countries of the old cultural centers.
Of the European countries, France has so far shown herself the least
receptive towards psychoanalysis, although creditable writings by the
Zürich physician, A. Maeder, have opened up for the French reader an
easy path to its principles. The first indications of interest came from
provincial France. Moricheau-Beauchant (Poitiers) was the first
Frenchman who openly accepted psychoanalysis. Régis and Hesnard
(Bordeaux) have lately tried (1913) to overcome the prejudices of their
countrymen by an exhaustive and senseful presentation of the subject,
which takes exception only to symbolism. In Paris itself there still
appears to reign the conviction (given such oratorical expression at
London Congress 1913 by Janet) that every thing good in psychoanalysis
only repeats, with slight modifications, the views of Janet—everything
else in psychoanalysis being bad. Janet himself had to stand at this
Congress a number of corrections from Ernest Jones, who was able to
reproach him for his lack of knowledge of the subject. We cannot,
however, forget the credit due Janet for his works on the psychology of
the neuroses, although we must repudiate his claims.
Italy, after many promising starts, ceased to take further interest.
Owing to personal connections psychoanalysis gained an early hearing in
Holland: Van Emden, Van Ophuijsen, Van Renterghem (“Freud en zijn
school”) and the two doctors Stärke are busy in Holland particularly on
the theoretical side.[8] The interest in psychoanalysis in scientific
circles in England developed very slowly, but the indications are that
just here, favored by the English liking for the practical and their
passionate championship of justice, a flourishing future awaits
psychoanalysis.
In Sweden, P. Bjerre, successor to Wetterstand, has, at least
temporarily, given up hypnotic suggestion in favor of analytic
treatment. A. Vogt (Christiania) honored psychoanalysis already in 1907
in his “Psykiatriens gruntraek,” so that the first text-book on
psychiatry that took any notice of psychoanalysis was written in
Norwegian. In Russia, psychoanalysis is very generally known and
widespread; almost all my writings as well as those of other advocates
of analysis are translated into Russian. But a deeper grasp of the
analytic teaching has not yet shown itself in Russia. The contributions
written by Russian physicians and psychiatrists are not at present
noteworthy. Only Odessa possesses a trained psychoanalyst in the person
of M. Wulff. The introduction of psychoanalysis into the science and
literature of Poland is due chiefly to the endeavors of L. Jekels.
Hungary, geographically so near to Austria, scientifically so foreign to
it, has given to psychoanalysis only one co-worker, S. Ferenczi, but
such an one as is worth a whole society.
The standing of psychoanalysis in Germany can be described in no other
way than to state that it is the cynosure of all scientific discussion,
and evokes from physicians as well as from the laity, opinions of
decided rejection, which, so far, have not come to an end, but which, on
the contrary, are constantly renewed and strengthened. No official seat
of learning has, so far, admitted psychoanalysis. Successful
practitioners who apply it are few. Only a few institutions, such as
that of Binswanger’s in Kreuzlingen (on Swiss soil) and Marcinowski’s in
Holstein, have opened their doors to psychoanalysis. In the critical
city of Berlin, we have K. Abraham, one of the most prominent
representatives of psychoanalysis. He was formerly an assistant of
Bleuler. One might wonder that this state of things has thus continued
for a number of years without any change, if it was not known that the
above account merely describes the superficial appearances. One must not
overestimate the significance of the rejection of psychoanalysis by the
official representatives of science, the heads of institutions, as well
as their young following. It is easy to understand why the opponents
loudly raise their voices whilst the followers, being intimidated, keep
silent. Many of the latter, whose first contributions to analysis raised
high expectations, later withdrew from the movement under the pressure
of circumstances. But the movement itself strides ahead quietly. It is
always gaining new supporters among psychiatrists and the laity. It
constantly increases the number of readers of psychoanalytic literature
and thus forces the opponents to a more violent attempt at defense. In
the course of these years I have read, perhaps a dozen times, in the
reports of the transactions of certain congresses and of meetings of
scientific societies, or in reviews of certain publications, that
psychoanalysis was now dead, that it was finally overcome and settled.
The answer to all this would have to read like the telegram from Mark
Twain to the newspaper that falsely announced his death: “The report of
my death is grossly exaggerated.” After each of these death-notices,
psychoanalysis has gained new followers and co-workers and has created
for itself new organs. Surely to be reported dead is an advance over
being treated with dead silence!
Hand in hand with its territorial expansion just described
psychoanalysis became enlarged with regard to its contents through its
encroaching upon fields of knowledge outside of the study of the
neuroses and psychiatry. I will not treat in detail the development of
this part of our branch of science since this was excellently done by
Rank and Sachs (in Löwenfeld’s “Grenzfragen”)[9] which presents
exhaustively just these achievements in the work of analysis. Besides,
here everything is in inchoate form, hardly worked out, mostly only
preliminary and sometimes only in the stage of an intention. Every
honest thinker will find herein no grounds for reproach. There is a
tremendous amount of problems for a small number of workers whose chief
activity lies elsewhere, who are obliged to attack the special problems
of the new science with only amateurish preparation. These workers
hailing from the psychoanalytic field make no secret of their
dilettantism, they only desire to be guides and temporary occupants of
the places of those specialists to whom they recommend the analytic
technique and principles until the latter are ready to take up this work
themselves. That the results aimed at are, even now, not at all
insignificant, is due partly to the fruitfulness of the psychoanalytic
method, and partly to the circumstance that already there are a few
investigators, who, without being physicians, have made the application
of psychoanalysis to the mental sciences their lifework.
Most of these psychoanalytic applications can be traced, as is easily
understood, to the impetus given by my early analytic works. The
analytic examinations of nervous patients and neurotic manifestations of
normal persons drove me to the assumption of psychological relationships
which, most certainly, could not be limited only to that field. Thus
analysis presented us not only with the explanation of pathological
occurrences, but also showed us their connection with normal psychic
life and uncovered undreamed-of relations between psychiatry and a
variety of other sciences dealing with activities of mind. Thus certain
typical dreams furnished the understanding of many myths and fairy
tales. Riklin and Abraham followed this hint and began those
investigations about myths which have found their completion in the
works of Rank on Mythology, works which do full justice to all the
requirements of the specialist. The prosecution of dream-symbology led
to the very heart of the problems of mythology, folk-lore (Jones,
Storfer) and of religious abstraction. At one of the psychoanalytic
congresses the audience was deeply impressed when a student of Jung
pointed out the similarity of the phantasy-formation of schizophrenics
with the cosmogonies of primitive times and peoples. In a later
elaboration, no longer free from objection yet very interesting, Jung
made use of mythological material in an attempt to harmonize the
neurotic with religious and mythological phantasies.
Another path led from the investigation of dreams to the analysis of
poetic creations, and finally to the analysis of authors and artists
themselves. Very soon it was discovered that the dreams invented by
writers stand in the same relation to analysis as do genuine dreams.[10]
The conception of the unconscious psychic activity enabled us to get the
first glimpse into the nature of the poetic creativeness. The valuation
of the emotional feelings which we were forced to recognize while
studying the neuroses enabled us to recognize the sources of artistic
productions and brought up the problem as to how the artist reacts to
those stimuli and with what means he disguises his reactions.[11] Most
psychoanalysts with wide interests have furnished contributions from
their works for the treatment of these problems, which are among the
most attractive in the application of psychoanalysis. Naturally here
also opposition was not lacking from those who are not acquainted with
analysis, and expressed itself with the same lack of understanding and
passionate rejection as on the native soil of psychoanalysis. For it was
to be expected as a matter of course, that everywhere psychoanalysis
penetrates, it would have to go through the same struggle with the
natives. However, these attempted invasions have not yet stirred up
interest in all fields which will, in the future, be open to them. Among
the strictly scientific applications of analysis to literature the deep
work of Rank on the theme of incest easily ranks first. Its content is
certain to evoke the greatest unpopularity. Philological and historical
works on the basis of psychoanalysis are few, at present. I myself dared
to venture to make the first attempt into the problems of the psychology
of religion in 1910, when I compared religious ceremonials with neurotic
ceremonials. In his work on the “piety of the Count of Zinzendorf,” as
well as in other contributions, the Rev. Dr. Pfister, of Zürich, has
succeeded in tracing back religious zealotism to perverse eroticism. In
the recent works of the Zürich School one is more likely to find that
religion becomes injected into the analysis rather than rationally
explained by it.
In my four essays on “Totem and Taboo”[12] I made the attempt to discuss
the problems of race psychology by means of analysis. This should lead
us directly to the origins of the most important institutions of our
civilization, such as state regulations, morality, religion, as well as
to the origins of the interdiction of incest and of conscience. To what
extent the relations thus obtained will be proof to criticism cannot be
determined today.
My book on Wit[13] furnished the first examples of the application of
analytic thinking to esthetic themes. Everything else is still waiting
for workers, who can expect a rich harvest in this very field. We are
lacking here in workers from these respective specialties and in order
to attract such, Hanns Sachs founded in 1912, the journal Imago, edited
by himself and Rank. Hitschmann and v. Winterstein made a beginning with
the psychoanalytic elucidation of philosophical systems and
personalities. The continuation and deeper treatment of the same is much
to be desired.
The revolutionary findings of psychoanalysis concerning the psychic life
of the child, the part played therein by sexual impulses (v.
Hug-Helmuth) and the fate of such participation of sexuality which
becomes useless for the purpose of propagation, naturally drew attention
to pedagogics, and instigated the effort to push the analytical
viewpoint into the foreground of this sphere. Recognition is due to the
Rev. Pfister for having begun this application of analysis with honest
enthusiasm, and for having brought it to the notice of ministers and
educators.[14] He succeeded in winning over a number of Swiss pedagogues
as sympathizers in this work. It is said that some preferred to remain
circumspectly in the background. A portion of the Vienna analysts seem
to have landed in their retreat from psychoanalysis on a sort of medical
pedagogy. (Adler and Furtmüller, “Heilen and Bilden,” 1913.)
I have attempted in these incomplete suggestions to indicate the, as
yet, hardly visible wealth of associations which have sprung up between
medical psychoanalysis and other fields of science. There is material
for the work of a whole generation of investigators and I doubt not that
this work will be done when once the resistance to psychoanalysis as
such has been overcome.[15]
To write the history of the resistances, I consider, at present, both
fruitless and inopportune. It would not be very glorious for the
scientific men of our day. But I will add at once that it has never
occurred to me to rail against the opponents of psychoanalysis merely
because they were opponents, not counting a few unworthy individuals,
fortune hunters and plunderers such as in time of war are always found
on both sides. For I knew how to account for the behavior of these
opponents and had besides discovered that psychoanalysis brings to light
the worst in every man. But I decided not to answer my opponents and, so
far as I had influence, to keep others from polemics. The value of
public or literary discussions seemed to me very doubtful under the
particular conditions in which the fight over psychoanalysis took place.
The value of majorities at congresses or society meetings was certainly
doubtful, and my confidence in the honesty and distinction of my
opponents was always slight. Observation shows that only very few
persons are capable of remaining polite, not to speak of objective, in
any scientific dispute, and the impression gained from a scientific
quarrel was always a horror to me. Perhaps this attitude of mine has
been misunderstood, perhaps I have been considered as good-natured or so
intimidated that it was supposed no further consideration need be shown
me.
This is a mistake. I can revile and rave as well as any other, but I am
not able to render into literary form the expressions of the underlying
affects and therefore I prefer to abstain entirely.
Perhaps in many respects it might have been better had I permitted free
vent to my own passions and to those about me. We have all heard the
interesting attempt at an explanation of the origin of psychoanalysis
from its Viennese milieu. Janet did not scorn to make use of it as late
as 1913, although, no doubt, he is proud of being a Parisian. This
_aperçu_ says that psychoanalysis, especially the assertion that the
neuroses can be traced back to disturbances in the sexual life, could
only have originated in a city like Vienna, in an atmosphere of
sensuality and immorality not to be found in other cities, and that it
thus represents only a reflection, the theoretical projection as it
were, of these particular Viennese conditions. Well, I certainly am no
local patriot, but this theory has always seemed to be especially
nonsensical, so nonsensical that sometimes I was inclined to assume that
the reproaching of the Vienna spirit was only a euphemistic substitution
for another one which one did not care to bring up publicly. If the
assumptions had been of the opposite kind, we might be inclined to
listen. But even if we assume that there might be a city whose
inhabitants have imposed upon themselves special sexual restrictions and
at the same time show a peculiar tendency to severe neurotic maladies,
then such a town might well furnish the soil on which some observer
might get the idea of connecting these two facts and of deducting the
one from the other. But neither assumption fits Vienna. The Viennese are
neither more abstemious nor yet more nervous than dwellers in any other
metropolis. Sex matters are a little freer, prudishness is less than in
the cities of western and northern Europe that are so proud of their
chastity. Our supposed observer would, more likely, be led astray by the
particular conditions prevailing in Vienna than be enlightened as to the
cause of the neuroses.
But Vienna has done everything possible to deny her share in the origin
of psychoanalysis. Nowhere else is the inimical indifference of the
learned and cultured circles so clearly evident to the psychoanalyst.
Perhaps I am somewhat to blame for this by my policy of avoiding
widespread publicity. If I had caused psychoanalysis to occupy the
medical societies of Vienna with noisy sessions, with an unloading of
all passions, wherein all reproaches and invectives carried on the
tongue or in the mind would have been expressed, then perhaps the ban
against psychoanalysis might, by now, have been removed and its standing
no longer might have been that of a stranger in its native city. As it
is, the poet may be right when he makes Wallenstein say:
“Yet this the Viennese will not forgive me,
That I did them out of a spectacle.”