CHAPTER XI

A CONTRIBUTION TO THE STUDY OF PSYCHOLOGICAL TYPES[183]

It is well known that in their general physiognomy hysteria and dementia

præcox present a striking contrast, which is seen particularly in the

attitude of the sufferers towards the external world. The reactions

provoked in the hysteric surpass the normal level of intensity of

feeling, whilst this level is not reached at all by the precocious

dement. The picture presented by these contrasted illnesses is one of

exaggerated emotivity in the one, and extreme apathy in the other, with

regard to the environment. In their personal relations this difference

is very marked. Abstraction creates some exceptions here, for we remain

in affective rapport with our hysterical patients, which is not the case

in dementia præcox.

The opposition between these two nosological types is also seen in

the rest of their symptomatology. From the intellectual point of view

the products of hysterical imagination may be accounted for in a very

natural and human way in each individual case by the antecedents

and individual history of the patient; while the inventions of the

precocious dement, on the contrary, are more nearly related to dreams

than to normal consciousness, and they display moreover an incontestably

archaic tendency, wherein mythological creations of primitive

imagination are more in evidence than the personal memories of the

patient. From the physical point of view we do not find in dementia

præcox those symptoms so common in the hysteric, which simulate well

known or severe organic affections.

All this clearly indicates that hysteria is characterised by a

centrifugal tendency of the libido,[184] whilst in dementia præcox its

tendency is centripetal. The reverse occurs, however, where the illness

has fully established its compensatory effects. In the hysteric the

libido is always hampered in its movements of expansion and forced to

regress upon itself; one observes that such individuals cease to partake

in the common life, are wrapped up in their phantasies, keep their beds,

or are unable to live outside their sick-rooms, etc. The precocious

dement, on the contrary, during the incubation of his illness turns

away from the outer world in order to withdraw into himself; but when

the period of morbid compensation arrives, he seems constrained to draw

attention to himself, and to force himself upon the notice of those

around him, by his extravagant, insupportable, or directly aggressive

conduct.

I propose to use the terms "extroversion" and "introversion" to describe

these two opposite directions of the libido, further qualifying them,

however, as "regressive" in morbid cases where phantasies, fictions,

or phantastic interpretations, inspired by emotivity, falsify the

perceptions of the subject about things, or about himself. We say that

he is extroverted when he gives his fundamental interest to the outer or

objective world, and attributes an all-important and essential value to

it: he is introverted, on the contrary, when the objective world suffers

a sort of depreciation, or want of consideration, for the sake of the

exaltation of the individual himself, who then monopolising all the

interest, grows to believe no one but himself worthy of consideration.

I will call "regressive extroversion" the phenomenon which Freud calls

"transference" (Übertragung), by which the hysteric projects into the

objective world the illusions, or subjective values of his feelings.

In the same way I shall call "regressive introversion," the opposite

pathological phenomenon which we find in dementia præcox, where the

subject himself suffers these phantastical transfigurations.

It is obvious that these two contrary movements of the libido, as

simple psychic mechanisms, may play a part alternately in the same

individual, since after all they serve the same purpose by different

methods--namely, to minister to his well-being. Freud has taught us

that in the mechanism of hysterical transference the individual aims

at getting rid of disagreeable memories or impressions, in order to

free himself from painful complexes, by a process of "repression."

Conversely in the mechanism of introversion, the personality tends to

concentrate itself upon its complexes, and with them, to isolate itself

from external reality, by a process which is not properly speaking

"repression," but which would be better rendered perhaps by the term

"depreciation" (Entwertung) of the objective world.

The existence of two mental affections so opposite in character as

hysteria and dementia præcox, in which the contrast rests on the almost

exclusive supremacy of extroversion or introversion, suggests that these

two psychological types may exist equally well in normal persons, who

may be characterised by the relative predominance of one or other of

the two mechanisms. Psychiatrists know very well that before either

illness is fully declared, patients already present the characteristic

type, traces of which are to be found from the earliest years of life.

As Binet pointed out so well, the neurotic only accentuates and shews

in relief the characteristic traits of his personality. One knows, of

course, that the hysterical character is not simply the product of the

illness, but pre-existed it in a measure. And Hoch has shown by his

researches into the histories of his dementia præcox patients, that this

is also the case with them; dissociations or eccentricities were present

before the onset of the illness. If this is so, one may certainly expect

to meet the same contrast between psychological temperaments outside

the sphere of pathology. It is moreover easy to cull from literature

numerous examples which bear witness to the actual existence of these

two opposite types of mentality. Without pretending to exhaust the

subject, I will give a few striking examples.

In my opinion, we owe the best observations on this subject to the

philosophy of William James.[185] He lays down the principle that no

matter what may be the temperament of a "professional philosopher,"

it is this temperament which he feels himself forced to express

and to justify in his philosophy. And starting from this idea,

which is altogether in accord with the spirit of psychoanalysis,

divides philosophers into two classes: the "tender-minded," who are

only interested in the inner life and spiritual things; and the

"tough-minded," who lay most stress on material things and objective

reality. We see that these two classes are actuated by exactly opposite

tendencies of the libido: the "tender-minded" represent introversion,

the "tough-minded" extroversion.

James says that the tender-minded are characterised by rationalism;

they are men of principles and of systems, they aspire to dominate

experience and to transcend it by abstract reasoning, by their logical

deductions, and purely rational conceptions. They care little for facts,

and the multiplicity of phenomena hardly embarrasses them at all: they

forcibly fit data into their ideal constructions, and reduce everything

to their _a priori_ premises. This was the method of Hegel in settling

beforehand the number of the planets. In the domain of mental pathology

we again meet this kind of philosopher in paranoiacs, who, without

being disquieted by the flat contradictions presented by experience,

impose their delirious conceptions on the universe, and find means of

interpreting everything, and according to Adler "arranging" everything,

in conformity with their morbidly preconceived system.

The other traits which James depicts in this type follow naturally

from its fundamental character. The tender-minded man, he says, is

intellectual, idealist, optimist, religious, partisan of free-will,

a monist, and a dogmatist. All these qualities betray the almost

exclusive concentration of the libido upon the intellectual life.

This concentration upon the inner world of thought is nothing else

than introversion. In so far as experience plays a _rôle_ with these

philosophers, it serves only as an allurement or fillip to abstraction,

in response to the imperative need to fit forcibly all the chaos of the

universe within well-defined limits, which are, in the last resort, the

creation of a spirit obedient to its subjective values.

The tough-minded man is positivist and empiricist. He regards only

matters of fact. Experience is his master, his exclusive guide and

inspiration. It is only empirical phenomena demonstrable in the outside

world which count. Thought is merely a reaction to external experience.

In the eyes of these philosophers principles are never of such value

as facts; they can only reflect and describe the sequence of phenomena

and cannot construct a system. Thus their theories are exposed to

contradiction under the overwhelming accumulation of empirical material.

Psychic reality for the positivist limits itself to the observation

and experience of pleasure and pain; he does not go beyond that, nor

does he recognise the rights of philosophical thought. Remaining on the

ever-changing surface of the phenomenal world, he partakes himself of

its instability; carried away in the chaotic tumult of the universe, he

sees all its aspects, all its theoretical and practical possibilities,

but he never arrives at the unity or the fixity of a settled system,

which alone could satisfy the idealist or tender-minded. The positivist

depreciates all values in reducing them to elements lower than

themselves; he explains the higher by the lower, and dethrones it, by

showing that it is "nothing but such another thing," which has no value

in itself.

From these general characteristics, the others which James points out

logically follow. The positivist is a sensualist, giving greater value

to the specific realm of the senses than to reflection which transcends

it. He is a materialist and a pessimist, for he knows only too well the

hopeless uncertainty of the course of things. He is irreligious, not

being in a state to hold firmly to the realities of the inner world

as opposed to the pressure of external facts; he is a determinist and

fatalist, only able to show resignation; a pluralist, incapable of all

synthesis; and finally a sceptic, as a last and inevitable consequence

of all the rest.

The expressions, therefore, used by James, show clearly that the

diversity of types is the result of a different localisation of the

libido; this libido is the magic power in the depth of our being, which,

following the personality, carries it sometimes towards internal life,

and sometimes towards the objective world. James compares, for example,

the religious subjectivism of the idealist, and the quasi-religious

attitude of the contemporary empiricist: "Our esteem for facts has not

neutralised in us all religiousness. It is itself almost religious. Our

scientific temper is devout."[186]

A second parallel is furnished by Wilhelm Ostwald,[187] who divides

"savants" and men of genius into classics and romantics. The latter

are distinguished by their rapid reactions, their extremely prompt and

abundant production of ideas and projects, some of which are badly

digested and of doubtful value. They are admirable and brilliant

masters, loving to teach, of a contagious ardour and enthusiasm, which

attracts many pupils, and makes them founders of schools, exercising

great personal influence. Herein our type of extroversion is easily

recognised. The classics of Ostwald are, on the contrary, slow to react;

they produce with much difficulty, are little capable of teaching or

of exercising direct personal influence, and lacking enthusiasm are

paralysed by their own severe criticism, living apart and absorbed in

themselves, making scarcely any disciples, but producing works of

finished perfection which often bring them posthumous fame. All these

characteristics correspond to introversion.

We find a further very valuable example in the æsthetic theory of

Warringer. Borrowing from A. Riegl his expression "Volonté d'art

absolue" to express the internal force which inspires the artist, he

distinguishes two forms, viz. sympathy (Einfühlung) and abstraction;

and the term which he employs indicates that here, too, we witness the

activity of the push of the libido, the stirring of the _élan vital_.

"In the same way," says Warringer, "as the sympathetic impulse finds its

satisfaction in organic beauty, so abstract impulse discovers beauty in

the inorganic, which is the negation of all life, in crystallised forms,

and in a general manner wherever the severity of abstract law reigns."

Whilst sympathy represents the warmth of passion which carries it into

the presence of the object in order to assimilate it and penetrate

it with emotional values; abstraction, on the other hand, despoils

the object of all that could recall life, and grasps it by purely

intellectual thought, crystallised and fixed into the rigid forms of

law,--the universal, the typical. Bergson also makes use of these images

of crystallisation, solidification, etc., to illustrate the essence of

intellectual abstraction.

Warringer's "abstraction" represents the process which I have already

remarked as a consequence of introversion, namely, the exaltation of

the intellect, in the place of the depreciated reality of the external

world. "Sympathy" corresponds in fact to extroversion, for, as Lipps

has pointed out, "What I perceive sympathetically in an object is, in

a general manner life, and life is power, internal work, effort, and

execution. To live, in a word, is to act, and to act is to experience

intimately the force which we give out; experience creates activity,

which is essentially of a spontaneous character." "Æsthetic enjoyment,"

said Warringer, "is the enjoyment of one's own self projected into the

"object," a formula which corresponds absolutely with our definition of

transference. This æsthetic conception does not refer to the positivist

in James's sense; it is rather the attitude of the idealist for whom

psychological reality only is interesting, and worthy of consideration."

Warringer adds, "what is essential lies not in the gradation of the

feeling, but pre-eminently in the feeling itself; that is to say, the

inner movement, the intimate life, the unfolding of the subject's own

activity; the value of a line or of a form, depends in our eyes on the

biological value it holds for us; that which gives beauty is solely

our own vital feeling, which we unconsciously project into it." This

view corresponds exactly with my own way of understanding the theory

of the libido, in attempting to keep the true balance between the two

psychological opposites of introversion and extroversion.

The polar opposite of sympathy is abstraction. The impulse of

abstraction is conceived by Warringer "as the result of a great internal

conflict of the human soul in the presence of the external world, and

from the religious standpoint, it corresponds to a strong transcendental

colouring of all the representations man has made to himself of

reality." We recognise clearly in this definition the primordial

tendency to introversion. To the introverted type the universe does not

appear beautiful and desirable, but disquieting, and even dangerous;

it is a manifestation against which the subject puts himself on the

defensive; he entrenches himself in his inner fastness, and fortifies

himself therein by the invention of geometrical figures, full of repose,

perfectly clear even in their minutest details, the primitive magic

power of which assures him of domination over the surrounding world.

"The need of abstraction is the origin of all art," says Warringer.

Here is a great principle, which gains weighty confirmation from the

fact that precocious dements reproduce forms and figures which present

the closest analogy to those of primitive humanity, not only in their

thoughts but also in their drawings.

We should recall that Schiller had already tried to formulate the same

presentation in what he calls the naïve and sentimental types. The

latter is in quest of nature, whilst the former is itself "all nature."

Schiller also saw that these two types result from the predominance of

psychological mechanisms which might be met with in one and the same

individual. "It is not only in the same poet," he said, "but even in the

same work that these two types of mentality are found united.... The

naïve poet pursues only nature and feeling in their simplicity, and all

his effort is limited to the imitation and reproduction of reality. The

sentimental poet, on the contrary, reflects the impression he receives

from objects. The object here is allied to an idea, and the poetic power

of the work depends on this alliance." These quotations shew what types

Schiller had in view, and one recognises their fundamental identity with

those with which we are here dealing.

We find another instance in Nietzsche's contrast between the minds

of Apollo and of Dionysus. The example which Nietzsche uses to

illustrate this contrast is instructive--namely, that between a dream

and intoxication. In a dream the individual is shut up in himself, in

intoxication, on the contrary, he forgets himself to the highest degree,

and, set free from his self-consciousness, plunges into the multiplicity

of the objective world. To depict Apollo, Nietzsche borrows the words of

Schopenhauer, "As upon a tumultuous sea, which disgorges and swallows

by turns, lost to view in the mountains of foaming waves, the mariner

remains seated tranquilly on his plank, full of confidence in his frail

barque; so individual man, in a world of troubles, lives passive and

serene, relying with confidence on the principle of 'individuation.'"

"Yes," continues Nietzsche, "we might say that the unshakeable

confidence in this principle, and the calm security of those whom it has

inspired, have found in Apollo their most sublime expression, and we may

always recognise in him the most splendid and divine personification of

the principle of making an individual." The Apollien state, as Nietzsche

conceives it, is consequently the withdrawal into oneself, that is,

introversion. Conversely in the Dionysian state, psychic intoxication,

indicates in his view the unloosening of a torrent of libido which

expends itself upon things. "This is not only," says Nietzsche, "the

alliance of man with man, which finds itself confirmed afresh under

the Dionysian enchantment; it is alienated Nature, hostile or enslaved,

which also celebrates her reconciliation with her prodigal child,--man.

Spontaneously Earth offers her gifts and the wild beasts from rock and

desert draw near peacefully. The car of Dionysus is lost under flowers

and garlands; panthers and tigers approach under his yoke."

If we change Beethoven's "Hymn of Praise" into a picture, and giving

rein to our imagination, contemplate the millions of beings prostrated

and trembling in the dust, at such a moment the Dionysian intoxication

will be near at hand. Then is the slave free; then all the rigid and

hostile barriers which poverty and arbitrary or insolent custom have

established between man and man are broken down. Now, by means of this

gospel of universal harmony, each feels himself not only reunited,

reconciled, fused with his neighbour, but actually identified with him,

as if the veil of "Maïa was torn away, nothing remaining of it but a few

shreds floating before the mystery of the Primordial Unity."[188] It

would be superfluous to add comment to these quotations.

In concluding this series of examples culled outside my own special

domain, I will quote the linguistic hypothesis of Finck,[189] where we

also see the duality in question. The structure of language, according

to Finck, presents two principal types: in one the subject is generally

conceived as active: "I see him," "I strike him down;" in the other the

subject experiences and feels, and it is the object which acts: "He

appears to me," "He succumbs to me." The first type clearly shews the

libido as going out of the subject,--this is a centrifugal movement;

the second as coming out of the object,--this movement is centripetal.

We meet with this latter introverted type especially in the primitive

languages of the Esquimaux.

In the domain of psychiatry also these two types have been described

by Otto Gross,[190] who distinguishes two forms of mental debility:

the one a diffuse and shallow consciousness, the other a concentrated

and deep consciousness. The first is characterised by weakness of the

consecutive function, the second by its excessive reinforcement. Gross

has recognised that the consecutive function is in intimate relation

with affectivity, from which we might infer that he is dealing once more

with our two psychological types. The relation he establishes between

maniac depressive insanity and the state of diffuse or extended and

shallow mental disease shows that the latter represents the extroverted

type; and the relation between the psychology of the paranoiac and

repressed mentality, indicates the identity of the former with the

introverted type.

After the foregoing considerations no one will be astonished to find

that in the domain of psychoanalysis we also have to reckon with the

existence of these two psychological types.

On the one side we meet with a theory which is essentially reductive,

pluralist, causal and sensualist; this is Freud's standpoint. This

theory limits itself rigidly to empirical facts, and traces back

complexes to their antecedents and their elemental factors. It regards

the psychological life as being only an effect, a reaction to the

environment, and accords the greatest _rôle_ and the largest place to

sensation. On the other side we have the diametrically opposed theory

of Adler[191] which is an entirely philosophical and finalistic one. In

it phenomena are not reducible to earlier and very primitive factors,

but are conceived as "arrangements," the outcome of intentions and

of ends of an extremely complex nature. It is no longer the view of

causality but of finality which dominates researches: the history of the

patient and the concrete influences of the environment are of much less

importance than the dominating principles, the "fictions directrices,"

of the individual. It is not essential for him to depend upon the

object, and to find in it his fill of subjective enjoyment, but to

protect his own individuality and to guarantee it against the hostile

influences of the environment.

Whilst Freud's psychology has for its predominant note the centrifugal

tendency, which demands its happiness and satisfaction in the objective

world, in that of Adler the chief _rôle_ belongs to the centripetal

movement, which tends to the supremacy of the subject, to his triumph

and his liberty, as opposed to the overwhelming forces of existence.

The expedient to which the type described by Freud has recourse is

"infantile transference," by means of which he projects phantasy into

the object and finds a compensation for the difficulties of life in this

transfiguration. In the type described by Adler what is characteristic

is, on the contrary, the "virile protest," personal resistance, the

efficacious safeguard which the individual provides for himself, in

affirming and stubbornly enclosing himself in his dominating ideas.

The difficult task of elaborating a psychology which should pay equal

attention to the two types of mentality belongs to the future.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 183: Delivered at the Psychoanalytical Congress, Munich, 1913.

Translated from _Archives de Psychologie_, by kind permission of the

Editor, Dr. Claparède. Translator, C. E. Long.]

[Footnote 184: "The concept of energy is that which comes nearest to

the concept of libido. Libido can perhaps be described as "effect,"

or "capacity for effect." It is capable of transformation from one

form to another. The metamorphosis can be sudden, as when one function

replaces another in a moment of danger; or it can be gradual, as we

see it in the process of sublimation, where the libido is led over a

long and difficult path through a variety of forms into a different

function."--MARY MOLTZER.]

[Footnote 185: "Pragmatism," Chapter I.]

[Footnote 186: "Pragmatism," ch. i., p. 14.]

[Footnote 187: W. Ostwald "Grosse Männer," Leipzig, 1910 (11th Lecture,

"Classics and Romanticists"). See also his contribution, "A propos de la

Biologie du Savant," Bibliothèque Universelle, Oct., 1910.]

[Footnote 188: Nietzsche, "The Birth of Tragedy," trans. Wm. A.

Haussmann.]

[Footnote 189: Finck, "Der deutsche Sprachbon als Aus druck, deutscher

Weltanschauung." Marburg, 1899.]

[Footnote 190: Gross, "Die zerebrale Sekundärfonktion." Leipsig, 1902.]

[Footnote 191: Adler, "Über den nervösen Charakter." Wiesbaden, 1912.]

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