“Yes?”
“This in itself was no new discovery. But Freud showed that these basic needs can be disguised or ‘sublimated,’ thereby steering our actions without our being aware of it. He also showed that infants have some sort of sexuality. The respectable middle-class Viennese reacted with abhorrence to this suggestion of the ‘sexuality of the child’ and made him very unpopular.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“We call it Victorianism, when everything to do with sexuality is taboo. Freud first became aware of children’s sexuality during his practice of psychotherapy. So he had an empirical basis for his claims. He had also seen how numerous forms of neurosis or psychological disorders could be traced back to conflicts during childhood. He gradually developed a type of therapy that we could call the archeology of the soul.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“An archeologist searches for traces of the distant past by digging through layers of cultural history. He may find a knife from the eighteenth century. Deeper in the ground he may find a comb from the fourteenth century—and even deeper down perhaps an urn from the fifth century B.C.”
“Yes?”
“In a similar way, the psychoanalyst, with the patient’s help, can dig deep into the patient’s mind and bring to light the experiences that have caused the patient’s psychological disorder, since according to Freud, we store the memory of all our experiences deep inside us.”
“Yes, I see.”
“The analyst can perhaps discover an unhappy experience that the patient has tried to suppress for many years, but which has nevertheless lain buried, gnawing away at the patient’s resources. By bringing a ‘traumatic experience’ into the conscious mind—and holding it up to the patient, so to speak—he or she can help the patient ‘be done with it,’ and get well again.”
“That sounds logical.”
“But I am jumping too far ahead. Let us first take a look at Freud’s description of the human mind. Have you ever seen a newborn baby?”
“I have a cousin who is four.”
“When we come into the world, we live out our physical and mental needs quite directly and unashamedly. If we do not get milk, we cry, or maybe we cry if we have a wet diaper. We also give direct expression to our desire for physical contact and body warmth. Freud called this ‘pleasure principle’ in us the id. As newborn babies we are hardly anything but id.”
“Go on.”
“We carry the id, or pleasure principle, with us into adulthood and throughout life. But gradually we learn to regulate our desires and adjust to our surroundings. We learn to regulate the pleasure principle in relation to the ‘reality principle.’ In Freud’s terms, we develop an ego which has this regulative function. Even though we want or need something, we cannot just lie down and scream until we get what we want or need.”
“No, obviously.”
“We may desire something very badly that the outside world will not accept. We may repress our desires. That means we try to push them away and forget about them.”
“I see.”
“However, Freud proposed, and worked with, a third element in the human mind. From infancy we are constantly faced with the moral demands of our parents and of society. When we do anything wrong, our parents say ‘Don’t do that!’ or ‘Naughty naughty, that’s bad!’ Even when we are grown up, we retain the echo of such moral demands and judgments. It seems as though the world’s moral expectations have become part of us. Freud called this the superego.”
“Is that another word for conscience?”
“Conscience is a component of the superego. But Freud claimed that the superego tells us when our desires themselves are ‘bad’ or ‘improper,’ not least in the case of erotic or sexual desire. And as I said, Freud claimed that these ‘improper’ desires already manifest themselves at an early stage of childhood.”
“How?”
“Nowadays we know that infants like touching their sex organs. We can observe this on any beach. In Freud’s time, this behavior could result in a slap over the fingers of the two-or three-year-old, perhaps accompanied by the mother saying, ‘Naughty!’ or ‘Don’t do that!’ or ‘Keep your hands on top of the covers!’”
“How sick!”
“That’s the beginning of guilt feelings about everything connected with the sex organs and sexuality. Because this guilt feeling remains in the superego, many people—according to Freud, most people—feel guilty about sex all their lives. At the same time he showed that sexual desires and needs are natural and vital for human beings. And thus, my dear Sophie, the stage is set for a lifelong conflict between desire and guilt.”
“Don’t you think the conflict has died down a lot since Freud’s time?”
“Most certainly. But many of Freud’s patients experienced the conflict so acutely that they developed what Freud called neuroses. One of his many women patients, for example, was secretly in love with her brother-in-law. When her sister died of an illness, she thought: ‘Now he is free to marry me!’ This thought was on course for a frontal collision with her superego, and was so monstrous an idea that she immediately repressed it, Freud tells us. In other words, she buried it deep in her unconscious. Freud wrote: ‘The young girl was ill and displaying severe hysterical symptoms. When I began treating her it appeared that she had thoroughly forgotten about the scene at her sister’s bedside and the odious egoistic impulse that had emerged in her. But during analysis she remembered it, and in a state of great agitation she reproduced the pathogenic moment and through this treatment became cured.’”
“Now I better understand what you meant by an archeology of the soul.”
“So we can give a general description of the human psyche. After many years of experience in treating patients, Freud concluded that the conscious constitutes only a small part of the human mind. The conscious is like the tip of the iceberg above sea level. Below sea level—or below the threshold of the conscious—is the ‘subconscious,’ or the unconscious.”
“So the unconscious is everything that’s inside us that we have forgotten and don’t remember?”
“We don’t have all our experiences consciously present all the time. But the kinds of things we have thought or experienced, and which we can recall if we ‘put our mind to it,’ Freud termed the preconscious. He reserved the term ‘unconscious’ for things we have repressed. That is, the sort of thing we have made an effort to forget because it was either ‘unpleasant,’ ‘improper,’ or ‘nasty.’ If we have desires and urges that are not tolerable to the conscious, the superego shoves them downstairs. Away with them!”
“I get it.”
“This mechanism is at work in all healthy people. But it can be such a tremendous strain for some people to keep the unpleasant or forbidden thoughts away from consciousness that it leads to mental illness. Whatever is repressed in this way will try of its own accord to reenter consciousness. For some people it takes a great effort to keep such impulses under the critical eye of the conscious. When Freud was in America in 1909 lecturing on psychoanalysis, he gave an example of the way this repression mechanism functions.”
“I’d like to hear that!”
“He said: ‘Suppose that here in this hall and in this audience, whose exemplary stillness and attention I cannot sufficiently commend, there is an individual who is creating a disturbance, and, by his ill-bred laughing, talking, by scraping his feet, distracts my attention from my task. I explain that I cannot go on with my lecture under these conditions, and thereupon several strong men among you get up and, after a short struggle, eject the disturber of the peace from the hall. He is now repressed, and I can continue my lecture. But in order that the disturbance may not be repeated, in case the man who has just been thrown out attempts to force his way back into the room, the gentlemen who have executed my suggestion take their chairs to the door and establish themselves there as a resistance, to keep up the repression. Now, if you transfer both locations to the psyche, calling
this consciousness, and the outside the unconscious, you have a tolerably good illustration of the process of repression.’”
“I agree.”
“But the disturber of the peace insists on reentering, Sophie. At least, that’s the way it is with repressed thoughts and urges. We live under the constant pressure of repressed thoughts that are trying to fight their way up from the unconscious. That’s why we often say or do things without intending to. Unconscious reactions thus prompt our feelings and actions.”
“Can you give me an example?”
“Freud operates with several of these mechanisms. One is what he called parapraxes—slips of the tongue or pen. In other words, we accidentally say or do things that we once tried to repress. Freud gives the example of the shop foreman who was to propose a toast to the boss. The trouble was that this boss was terribly unpopular. In plain words, he was what one might call a swine.”
“Yes?”
“The foreman stood up, raised his glass, and said ‘Here’s to the swine!’”
“I’m speechless!”
“So was the foreman. He had actually only said what he really meant. But he didn’t mean to say it. Do you want to hear another example?”
“Yes, please.”
“A bishop was coming to tea with the local minister, who had a large family of nice well-behaved little daughters. This bishop happened to have an unusually big nose. The little girls were duly instructed that on no account were they to refer to the bishop’s nose, since children often blurt out spontaneous remarks about people because their repressive mechanism is not yet developed. The bishop arrived, and the delightful daughters strained themselves to the utmost not to comment on his nose. They tried to not even look at it and to forget about it. But they were thinking about it the whole time. And then one of them was asked to pass the sugar around. She looked at the distinguished bishop and said, ‘Do you take sugar in your nose?’”
“How awful!”
“Another thing we can do is to rationalize. That means that we do not give the real reason for what we are doing either to ourselves or to other people because the real reason is unacceptable.”
“Like what?”
“I could hypnotize you to open a window. While you are under hypnosis I tell you that when I begin to drum my fingers on the table you will get up and open the window. I drum on the table—and you open the window. Afterward I ask you why you opened the window and you might say you did it because it was too hot. But that is not the real reason. You are reluctant to admit to yourself that you did something under my hypnotic orders. So you rationalize.”
“Yes, I see.”
“We all encounter that sort of thing practically every day.”
“This four-year-old cousin of mine, I don’t think he has a lot of playmates, so he’s always happy when I visit. One day I told him I had to hurry home to my mom. Do you know what he said?”
“What did he say?”
“He said, she’s stupid!”
“Yes, that was definitely a case of rationalizing. The boy didn’t mean what he actually said. He meant it was stupid you had to go, but he was too shy to say so. Another thing we do is project.”
“What’s that?”
“When we project, we transfer the characteristics we are trying to repress in ourselves onto other people. A person who is very miserly, for example, will characterize others as penny-pinchers. And someone who will not admit to being preoccupied with sex can be the first to be incensed at other people’s sex-fixation.”
“Hmm.”
“Freud claimed that our everyday life was filled with unconscious mechanisms like these. We forget a particular person’s name, we fumble with our clothes while we talk, or we shift what appear to be random objects around in the room. We also stumble over words and make various slips of the tongue or pen that can seem completely innocent. Freud’s point was that these slips are neither as accidental nor as innocent as we think. These bungled actions can in fact reveal the most intimate secrets.”
“From now on I’ll watch all my words very carefully.”
“Even if you do, you won’t be able to escape from your unconscious impulses. The art is precisely not to expend too much effort on burying unpleasant things in the unconscious. It’s like trying to block up the entrance to a water vole’s nest. You can be sure the water vole will pop up in another part of the garden. It is actually quite healthy to leave the door ajar between the conscious and the unconscious.”
“If you lock that door you can get mentally sick, right?”
“Yes. A neurotic is just such a person, who uses too much energy trying to keep the ‘unpleasant’ out of his consciousness. Frequently there is a particular experience which the person is desperately trying to repress. He can nonetheless be anxious for the doctor to help him to find his way back to the hidden traumas.”
“How does the doctor do that?”
“Freud developed a technique which he called free association. In other words, he let the patient lie in a relaxed position and just talk about whatever came into his or her mind—however irrelevant, random, unpleasant, or embarrassing it might sound. The idea was to break through the ‘lid’ or ‘control’ that had grown over the traumas, because it was these traumas that were causing the patient concern. They are active all the time, just not consciously.”
“The harder you try to forget something, the more you think about it unconsciously?”
“Exactly. That is why it is so important to be aware of the signals from the unconscious. According to Freud, the royal road to the unconscious is our dreams. His main work was written on this subject—The Interpretation of Dreams, published in 1900, in which he showed that our dreams are not random. Our unconscious tries to communicate with our conscious through dreams.”
“Go on.”
“After many years of experience with patients—and not least after having analyzed his own dreams—Freud determined that all dreams are wish fulfillments. This is clearly observable in children, he said. They dream about ice cream and cherries. But in adults, the wishes that are to be fulfilled in dreams are disguised. That is because even when we sleep, censorship is at work on what we will permit ourselves. And although this censorship, or repression mechanism, is considerably weaker when we are asleep than when we are awake, it is still strong enough to cause our dreams to distort the wishes we cannot acknowledge.”
“Which is why dreams have to be interpreted.”
“Freud showed that we must distinguish between the actual dream as we recall it in the morning and the real meaning of the dream. He termed the actual dream image—that is, the ‘film’ or ‘video’ we dream—the manifest dream. This ‘apparent’ dream content always takes its material or scenario from the previous day. But the dream also contains a deeper meaning which is hidden from consciousness. Freud called this the latent dream thoughts, and these hidden thoughts which the dream is really about may stem from the distant past, from earliest childhood, for instance.”
“So we have to analyze the dream before we can understand it.”
“Yes, and for the mentally ill, this must be done in conjunction with the therapist. But it is not the doctor who interprets the dream. He can only do it with the help of the patient. In this situation, the doctor simply fulfills the function of a Socratic ‘midwife,’ assisting during the interpretation.”
“I see.”
“The actual process of converting the latent dream thoughts to the manifest dream aspect was termed by Freud the dream work. We might call it ‘masking’ or ‘coding’ what the dream is actually about. In interpreting the dream, we must go through the reverse process and unmask or decode the motif to arrive at its theme.”
“Can you give me an example?”
“Freud’s book teems with examples. But we can construct a simple and very Freudian example for ourselves. Let us say a young man dreams that he is given two balloons by his female cousin…”
“Yes?”
“Go on, try to interpret the dream yourself?”
“Hmm…there is a manifest dream, just like you said: a young man gets two balloons from his female cousin.”
“Carry on.”
“You said the scenario is always from the previous day. So he had been to the fair the day before—or maybe he saw a picture of balloons in the newspaper.”
“It’s possible, but he need only have seen the word ‘balloon,’ or something that reminded him of a balloon.”
“But what are the latent dream thoughts that the dream is really about?”
“You’re the interpreter.”
“Maybe he just wanted a couple of balloons.”
“No, that won’t work. You’re right about the dream being a wish fulfillment. But a young man would hardly have an ardent wish for a couple of balloons. And if he had, he wouldn’t need to dream about them.”
“I think I’ve got it: he really wants his cousin—and the two balloons are her breasts.”
“Yes, that’s a much more likely explanation. And it presupposes that he experienced his wish as an embarrassment.”
“In a way, our dreams make a lot of detours?”
“Yes. Freud believed that the dream was a ‘disguised fulfillment of a repressed wish.’ But exactly what we have repressed can have changed considerably since Freud was a doctor in Vienna. However, the mechanism of disguised dream content can still be intact.”
“Yes, I see.”
“Freud’s psychoanalysis was extremely important in the 1920s, especially for the treatment of certain psychiatric patients. His theory of the unconscious was also very significant for art and literature.”
“Artists became interested in people’s unconscious mental life?”
“Exactly so, although this had already become a predominant aspect of literature in the last decade of the nineteenth century—before Freud’s psychoanalysis was known. It merely shows that the appearance of Freud’s psychoanalysis at that particular time, the 1890s, was no coincidence.”
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