A church and an army are artificial groups, that is, a certain external

force is employed to prevent them from disintegrating and to check

alterations in their structure. As a rule a person is not consulted or

is given no choice, as to whether he wants to enter such a group; any

attempt at leaving it is usually met with persecution or with severe

punishment, or has quite definite conditions attached to it. It is quite

outside our present interest to enquire why these associations need such

special safeguards. We are only attracted by one circumstance, namely

that certain facts, which are far more concealed in other cases, can be

observed very clearly in those highly organised groups which are

protected from dissolution in the manner that has been mentioned. In a

church (and we may with advantage take the Catholic Church as a type) as

well as in an army, however different the two may be in other respects,

the same illusion holds good of there being a head--in the Catholic

Church Christ, in an army its Commander-in-Chief--who loves all the

individuals in the group with an equal love. Everything depends upon

this illusion; if it were to be dropped, then both Church and army would

dissolve, so far as the external force permitted them to. This equal

love was expressly enunciated by Christ: 'Inasmuch as ye have done it

unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.' He

stands to the individual members of the group of believers in the

relation of a kind elder brother; he is their father surrogate. All the

demands that are made upon the individual are derived from this love of

Christ's. A democratic character runs through the Church, for the very

reason that before Christ everyone is equal, and that everyone has an

equal share in his love. It is not without a deep reason that the

similarity between the Christian community and a family is invoked, and

that believers call themselves brothers in Christ, that is, brothers

through the love which Christ has for them. There is no doubt that the

tie which unites each individual with Christ is also the cause of the

tie which unites them with one another. The like holds good of an army.

The Commander-in-Chief is a father who loves all his soldiers equally,

and for that reason they are comrades among themselves. The army differs

structurally from the Church in being built up of a series of such

groups. Every captain is, as it were, the Commander-in-Chief and the

father of his company, and so is every non-commissioned officer of his

section. It is true that a similar hierarchy has been constructed in the

Church, but it does not play the same part in it economically; for more

knowledge and care about individuals may be attributed to Christ than

to a human Commander-in-Chief.[28]

It is to be noticed that in these two artificial groups each individual

is bound by libidinal[29] ties on the one hand to the leader (Christ,

the Commander-in-Chief) and on the other hand to the other members of

the group. How these two ties are related to each other, whether they

are of the same kind and the same value, and how they are to be

described psychologically--these questions must be reserved for

subsequent enquiry. But we shall venture even now upon a mild reproach

against the authorities for not having sufficiently appreciated the

importance of the leader in the psychology of the group, while our own

choice of a first object for investigation has brought us into a more

favourable position. It would appear as though we were on the right road

towards an explanation of the principal phenomenon of Group

Psychology--the individual's lack of freedom in a group. If each

individual is bound in two directions by such an intense emotional tie,

we shall find no difficulty in attributing to that circumstance the

alteration and limitation which have been observed in his personality.

A hint to the same effect, that the essence of a group lies in the

libidinal ties existing in it, is also to be found in the phenomenon of

panic, which is best studied in military groups. A panic arises if a

group of that kind becomes disintegrated. Its characteristics are that

none of the orders given by superiors are any longer listened to, and

that each individual is only solicitous on his own account, and without

any consideration for the rest. The mutual ties have ceased to exist,

and a gigantic and senseless dread [_Angst_] is set free. At this point,

again, the objection will naturally be made that it is rather the other

way round; and that the dread has grown so great as to be able to

disregard all ties and all feelings of consideration for others.

McDougall has even (p. 24) made use of the case of panic (though not of

military panic) as a typical instance of that intensification of emotion

by contagion ('primary induction') upon which he lays so much emphasis.

But nevertheless this rational method of explanation is here quite

inadequate. The very question that needs explanation is why the dread

has become so gigantic. The greatness of the danger cannot be

responsible, for the same army which now falls a victim to panic may

previously have faced equally great or greater danger with complete

success; it is of the very essence of panic that it bears no relation to

the danger that threatens, and often breaks out upon the most trivial

occasions. If an individual in panic dread begins to be solicitous only

on his own account, he bears witness in so doing to the fact that the

emotional ties, which have hitherto made the danger seem small to him,

have ceased to exist. Now that he is by himself in facing the danger,

he may surely think it greater. The fact is, therefore, that panic dread

presupposes a relaxation in the libidinal structure of the group and

reacts to it in a justifiable manner, and the contrary view--that the

libidinal ties of the group are destroyed owing to dread in the face of

the danger--can be refuted.

The contention that dread in a group is increased to enormous

proportions by means of induction (contagion) is not in the least

contradicted by these remarks. McDougall's view meets the case entirely

when the danger is a really great one and when the group has no strong

emotional ties--conditions which are fulfilled, for instance, when a

fire breaks out in a theatre or a place of amusement. But the really

instructive case and the one which can be best employed for our purposes

is that mentioned above, in which a body of troops breaks into a panic

although the danger has not increased beyond a degree that is usual and

has often been previously faced. It is not to be expected that the usage

of the word 'panic' should be clearly and unambiguously determined.

Sometimes it is used to describe any collective dread, sometimes even

dread in an individual when it exceeds all bounds, and often the name

seems to be reserved for cases in which the outbreak of dread is not

warranted by the occasion. If we take the word 'panic' in the sense of

collective dread, we can establish a far-reaching analogy. Dread in an

individual is provoked either by the greatness of a danger or by the

cessation of emotional ties (libidinal cathexes[30]

[_Libidobesetzungen_]); the latter is the case of neurotic dread.[31] In

just the same way panic arises either owing to an increase of the common

danger or owing to the disappearance of the emotional ties which hold

the group together; and the latter case is analogous to that of neurotic

dread.[32]

Anyone who, like McDougall (l.c.), describes a panic as one of the

plainest functions of the 'group mind', arrives at the paradoxical

position that this group mind does away with itself in one of its most

striking manifestations. It is impossible to doubt that panic means the

disintegration of a group; it involves the cessation of all the feelings

of consideration which the members of the group otherwise show one

another.

The typical occasion of the outbreak of a panic is very much as it is

represented in Nestroy's parody of Hebbel's play about Judith and

Holofernes. A soldier cries out: "The general has lost his head!" and

thereupon all the Assyrians take to flight. The loss of the leader in

some sense or other, the birth, of misgivings about him, brings on the

outbreak of panic, though the danger remains the same; the mutual ties

between the members of the group disappear, as a rule, at the same time

as the tie with their leader. The group vanishes in dust, like a Bologna

flask when its top is broken off.

The dissolution of a religious group is not so easy to observe. A short

time ago there came into my hands an English novel of Catholic origin,

recommended by the Bishop of London, with the title _When It Was Dark_.

It gave a clever and, as it seems to me, a convincing picture of such a

possibility and its consequences. The novel, which is supposed to

relate to the present day, tells how a conspiracy of enemies of the

figure of Christ and of the Christian faith succeed in arranging for a

sepulchre to be discovered in Jerusalem. In this sepulchre is an

inscription, in which Joseph of Arimathaea confesses that for reasons of

piety he secretly removed the body of Christ from its grave on the third

day after its entombment and buried it in this spot. The resurrection of

Christ and his divine nature are by this means disposed of, and the

result of this archaeological discovery is a convulsion in European

civilisation and an extraordinary increase in all crimes and acts of

violence, which only ceases when the forgers' plot has been revealed.

The phenomenon which accompanies the dissolution that is here supposed

to overtake a religious group is not dread, for which the occasion is

wanting. Instead of it ruthless and hostile impulses towards other

people make their appearance, which, owing to the equal love of Christ,

they had previously been unable to do.[33] But even during the kingdom

of Christ those people who do not belong to the community of believers,

who do not love him, and whom he does not love, stand outside this tie.

Therefore a religion, even if it calls itself the religion of love,

must be hard and unloving to those who do not belong to it.

Fundamentally indeed every religion is in this same way a religion of

love for all those whom it embraces; while cruelty and intolerance

towards those who do not belong to it are natural to every religion.

However difficult we may find it personally, we ought not to reproach

believers too severely on this account; people who are unbelieving or

indifferent are so much better off psychologically in this respect. If

to-day that intolerance no longer shows itself so violent and cruel as

in former centuries, we can scarcely conclude that there has been a

softening in human manners. The cause is rather to be found in the

undeniable weakening of religious feelings and the libidinal ties which

depend upon them. If another group tie takes the place of the religious

one--and the socialistic tie seems to be succeeding in doing so--, then

there will be the same intolerance towards outsiders as in the age of

the Wars of Religion; and if differences between scientific opinions

could ever attain a similar significance for groups, the same result

would again be repeated with this new motivation.

VI

FURTHER PROBLEMS AND LINES OF WORK

We have hitherto considered two artificial groups and have found that

they are dominated by two emotional ties. One of these, the tie with the

leader, seems (at all events for these cases) to be more of a ruling

factor than the other, which holds between the members of the group.

Now much else remains to be examined and described in the morphology of

groups. We should have to start from the ascertained fact that a mere

collection of people is not a group, so long as these ties have not been

established in it; but we should have to admit that in any collection of

people the tendency to form a psychological group may very easily become

prominent. We should have to give our attention to the different kinds

of groups, more or less stable, that arise spontaneously, and to study

the conditions of their origin and of their dissolution. We should above

all be concerned with the distinction between groups which have a

leader and leaderless groups. We should consider whether groups with

leaders may not be the more primitive and complete, whether in the

others an idea, an abstraction, may not be substituted for the leader (a

state of things to which religious groups, with their invisible head,

form a transition stage), and whether a common tendency, a wish in which

a number of people can have a share, may not in the same way serve as a

substitute. This abstraction, again, might be more or less completely

embodied in the figure of what we might call a secondary leader, and

interesting varieties would arise from the relation between the idea and

the leader. The leader or the leading idea might also, so to speak, be

negative; hatred against a particular person or institution might

operate in just the same unifying way, and might call up the same kind

of emotional ties as positive attachment. Then the question would also

arise whether a leader is really indispensable to the essence of a

group--and other questions besides.

But all these questions, which may, moreover, have been dealt with in

part in the literature of Group Psychology, will not succeed in

diverting our interest from the fundamental psychological problems that

confront us in the structure of a group. And our attention will first be

attracted by a consideration which promises to bring us in the most

direct way to a proof that libidinal ties are what characterize a

group.

Let us keep before our eyes the nature of the emotional relations which

hold between men in general. According to Schopenhauer's famous simile

of the freezing porcupines no one can tolerate a too intimate approach

to his neighbour.[34]

The evidence of psycho-analysis shows that almost every intimate

emotional relation between two people which lasts for some

time--marriage, friendship, the relations between parents and

children[35]--leaves a sediment of feelings of aversion and hostility,

which have first to be eliminated by repression. This is less disguised

in the common wrangles between business partners or in the grumbles of a

subordinate at his superior. The same thing happens when men come

together in larger units. Every time two families become connected by a

marriage, each of them thinks itself superior to or of better birth than

the other. Of two neighbouring towns each is the other's most jealous

rival; every little canton looks down upon the others with contempt.

Closely related races keep one another at arm's length; the South German

cannot endure the North German, the Englishman casts every kind of

aspersion upon the Scotchman, the Spaniard despises the Portuguese. We

are no longer astonished that greater differences should lead to an

almost insuperable repugnance, such as the Gallic people feel for the

German, the Aryan for the Semite, and the white races for the coloured.

When this hostility is directed against people who are otherwise loved

we describe it as ambivalence of feeling; and we explain the fact, in

what is probably far too rational a manner, by means of the numerous

occasions for conflicts of interest which arise precisely in such

intimate relations. In the undisguised antipathies and aversions which

people feel towards strangers with whom they have to do we may recognize

the expression of self-love--of narcissism. This self-love works for the

self-assertion of the individual, and behaves as though the occurrence

of any divergence from his own particular lines of development involved

a criticism of them and a demand for their alteration. We do not know

why such sensitiveness should have been directed to just these details

of differentiation; but it is unmistakable that in this whole connection

men give evidence of a readiness for hatred, an aggressiveness, the

source of which is unknown, and to which one is tempted to ascribe an

elementary character.[36]

But the whole of this intolerance vanishes, temporarily or permanently,

as the result of the formation of a group, and in a group. So long as a

group formation persists or so far as it extends, individuals behave as

though they were uniform, tolerate other people's peculiarities, put

themselves on an equal level with them, and have no feeling of aversion

towards them. Such a limitation of narcissism can, according to our

theoretical views, only be produced by one factor, a libidinal tie with

other people. Love for oneself knows only one barrier--love for others,

love for objects.[37] The question will at once be raised whether

community of interest in itself, without any addition of libido, must

not necessarily lead to the toleration of other people and to

considerateness for them. This objection may be met by the reply that

nevertheless no lasting limitation of narcissism is effected in this

way, since this tolerance does not persist longer than the immediate

advantage gained from the other people's collaboration. But the

practical importance of the discussion is less than might be supposed,

for experience has shown that in cases of collaboration libidinal ties

are regularly formed between the fellow-workers which prolong and

solidify the relation between them to a point beyond what is merely

profitable. The same thing occurs in men's social relations as has

become familiar to psycho-analytic research in the course of the

development of the individual libido. The libido props itself upon the

satisfaction of the great vital needs, and chooses as its first objects

the people who have a share in that process. And in the development of

mankind as a whole, just as in individuals, love alone acts as the

civilizing factor in the sense that it brings a change from egoism to

altruism. And this is true both of the sexual love for women, with all

the obligations which it involves of sparing what women are fond of, and

also of the desexualised, sublimated homosexual love for other men,

which springs from work in common. If therefore in groups narcissistic

self-love is subject to limitations which do not operate outside them,

that is cogent evidence that the essence of a group formation consists

in a new kind of libidinal ties among the members of the group.

But our interest now leads us on to the pressing question as to what may

be the nature of these ties which exist in groups. In the

psycho-analytic study of neuroses we have hitherto been occupied almost

exclusively with ties that unite with their objects those love instincts

which still pursue directly sexual aims. In groups there can evidently

be no question of sexual aims of that kind. We are concerned here with

love instincts which have been diverted from their original aims, though

they do not operate with less energy on that account. Now we have

already observed within the range of the usual sexual object-cathexis

[_Objektbesetzung_] phenomena which represent a diversion of the

instinct from its sexual aim. We have described them as degrees of being

in love, and have recognized that they involve a certain encroachment

upon the ego. We shall now turn our attention more closely to these

phenomena of being in love, in the firm expectation of finding in them

conditions which can be transferred to the ties that exist in groups.

But we should also like to know whether this kind of object-cathexis, as

we know it in sexual life, represents the only manner of emotional tie

with other people, or whether we must take other mechanisms of the sort

into account. As a matter of fact we learn from psycho-analysis that

there do exist other mechanisms for emotional ties, the so-called

_identifications_, insufficiently-known processes and hard to describe,

the investigation of which will for some time keep us away from the

subject of Group Psychology.

VII

IDENTIFICATION

Identification is known to psycho-analysis as the earliest expression of

an emotional tie with another person. It plays a part in the early

history of the Oedipus complex. A little boy will exhibit a special

interest in his father; he would like to grow like him and be like him,

and take his place everywhere. We may say simply that he takes his

father as his ideal. This behaviour has nothing to do with a passive or

feminine attitude towards his father (and towards males in general); it

is on the contrary typically masculine. It fits in very well with the

Oedipus complex, for which it helps to prepare the way.

At the same time as this identification with his father, or a little

later, the boy has begun to develop a true object-cathexis towards his

mother according to the anaclitic type [_Anlehnungstypus_].[38] He then

exhibits, therefore, two psychologically distinct ties: a

straightforward sexual object-cathexis towards his mother and a typical

identification towards his father. The two subsist side by side for a

time without any mutual influence or interference. In consequence of the

irresistible advance towards a unification of mental life they come

together at last; and the normal Oedipus complex originates from their

confluence. The little boy notices that his father stands in his way

with his mother. His identification with his father then takes on a

hostile colouring and becomes identical with the wish to replace his

father in regard to his mother as well. Identification, in fact, is

ambivalent from the very first; it can turn into an expression of

tenderness as easily as into a wish for someone's removal. It behaves

like a derivative of the first _oral_ phase of the organisation of the

libido, in which the object that we long for and prize is assimilated by

eating and is in that way annihilated as such. The cannibal, as we know,

has remained at this standpoint; he has a devouring affection for his

enemies and only devours people of whom he is fond.[39]

The subsequent history of this identification with the father may easily

be lost sight of. It may happen that the Oedipus complex becomes

inverted, and that the father is taken as the object of a feminine

attitude, an object from which the directly sexual instincts look for

satisfaction; in that event the identification with the father has

become the precursor of an object tie with the father. The same holds

good, with the necessary substitutions, of the baby daughter as well.

It is easy to state in a formula the distinction between an

identification with the father and the choice of the father as an

object. In the first case one's father is what one would like to _be_,

and in the second he is what one would like to _have_. The distinction,

that is, depends upon whether the tie attaches to the subject or to the

object of the ego. The former is therefore already possible before any

sexual object-choice has been made. It is much more difficult to give a

clear metapsychological representation of the distinction. We can only

see that identification endeavours to mould a person's own ego after the

fashion of the one that has been taken as a 'model'.

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