Professional Documents
Culture Documents
The text was originally presented to the 24th Annual Congress of the Canadian Psychoanalytic Society in Montreal, on June 19, 1998. The conversational style of the original French text has been largely preserved. Translation
by Charles Levin.
JULIA KRISTEVA
Let us take note, further on, of the distinction between a bad and a
good freedoman instinctual freedom opposed to a freedom associated with security:
In fact, primitive man was better off in knowing no restrictions of
instinct. To counterbalance this, his prospects of enjoying this happiness
for any length of time were very slender. Civilized man has exchanged
a portion of his possibilities of happiness for a portion of security. We
must not forget however, that in the primal family only the head of it
enjoyed this instinctual freedom; the rest lived in slavish suppression.
. . . In this period however, . . . the instinctual life of primitive peoples is
by no means to be envied for its freedom. It is subject to restrictions of
a different kind but perhaps of greater severity than those attaching to
modern civilized man (S. E. 21:115).
Moral consciousness and its organ, the super-ego, thus impose, from
the beginnings of primitive man, a renunciation of drive freedom,
which Freud partly regrets but must eventually accept as a necessary
compromise in the name of survival.
At one point, in the course of this enquiry I was led to the idea that
civilization was a different process3 working above mankind and I am
still under the influence of that idea. I may now add that civilization is a
process in the service of Eros, whose purpose is to combine isolated
human individuals, and after that, families, then races, peoples and
nations, into one great unity, the unity of humanity. Why this has to
happen we do not know; the work of Eros is precisely this. But mans
natural aggressive instinct, the hostility of each against all and of all
against each, opposes this instinct of civilization. . . . This struggle is
what all life essentially consists of, and the evolution of civilization may
therefore be simply described as the struggle for life of the human
species. And it is this battle of the giants that our nurse-maids try to
appease with their lullaby about Heaven.4
I have quoted at length from this unique text of Freuds on the aporias
of freedom, not only because I know that the North American public,
which is ahead of Europe in the civilization now befalling us, doesnt
read mucheven less the founding texts of psychoanalysis (which
allows me to do some educational work)but also because Freuds
later work, far from being an appendage, as has often been suggested,
seems to me to reveal some of Freuds most daring challenges to
contemporary thought. But these elements still need to be brought to
the surface, where we can examine them.
It is not my intention to underline the claims and paradoxes of
freedom according to Freud, in light of the philosophy of freedom,
whose long history, as stated earlier, derives from pre-Christian
thought and theology, rather than ancient philosophy. I will limit
myself to indicating a few points that might be of interest to psychoanalysis today.
Freud seems to begin with a naturalistic conception of pleasure: with
the man of pleasure who wants to satisfy his drives naturally. Here we
are not far from a Greek idea of freedom as I can, as opposed to I
want, which implies an objective state in the body (doing as one
pleases), without a constraint emanating from a master or a physical
force. Remember that, for the Greeks, freedom (leutheria) is essentially freedom of movement (Freud says pouse, urge, drang)Go
where you see fit, eleuthein hopos ero. Very quickly, however, this
freedom comes face to face with the fable of the murder of the father,
implying another conception of freedom, which is consecutive to a
commandment. The tyranny of the assimilated/introjected father
becomes moral consciousness, the conscience or super-ego, which
JULIA KRISTEVA
forbids: Thou shalt not sleep with thy mother, and thou shalt not kill
thy father.
However, this biblical resurgence in Freudian thought, which (it is
worth recalling) structures the psychoanalytic conception of the psychic apparatus, is the starting point for what Lacan, reader of Civilization and Its Discontents, calls an ethic beyond the notion of a
command, beyond what offers itself with a sense of obligation.5 As
we have just seen in the brief extracts from Civilization and Its Discontents, desire is not subordinated to a commandment exterior to it. To
state this more positively, moral obligation is rooted in desire itself; it
is the energy of desire that engenders its own censorship. Why? We do
not know, says Freud modestly. But the work of Eros is precisely
this, he continues, enigmatically.
Now, what if Freud really has an answer to this question, through an
insight that he reiterates throughout the course of his work?namely,
the emergence of thinking as realized in a shared language that reins in
the drive and commands it. This command becomes, from then on,
intrinsic to the drive insofar as the latter is human (a drive is from the
beginning an interweaving of energy and representation), and raises it
to another level of the psychic apparatus, where the drive becomes
desire. The drive is translated into the code of social communication,
always already structured by language, in which the dialectic of freedom can be played out. Drive and desire are caught in the net of
sharable language what Kant in the Critique of Judgement calls an
enlarged [mentality] because it involves put[ting] ourselves in
thought in the place of everyone else (fellow being, father, brother,
family, clan, nation, and so on, right up to that expanded totality we
have been calling, since Pascal, humanity).6 Insofar as it is thoughtspoken, desire inscribes the urge of the drive first in a representation,
and then in the necessity of accepting the others death and ones own.
Let us pause for a moment over this Freudian discovery about
freedom, that the natural spontaneous freedom of the drive, once
harnessed by thought and language, is caught up intrapsychically in
negotiations with the death instinct. Freud reveals this transcription of
the death instinct into symbolism in his reflections on Negativity
(1925) and also on sublimation in The Ego and the Id (1923). I
recommend the very relevant commentary in Andre Greens Travail du
JULIA KRISTEVA
JULIA KRISTEVA
these desires, relative to which one does not give ground, pour out,
purely and simply. His or her way of listening and interpreting
welcomes these desires from the perspective of a moral choice, which
constitutes an ethics. Though these implicit ethics are certainly nonpedagogical, they are not devoid of communitarian objectives which
frame, when they do not actually restrain, the desires liberated in the
transference. Lacan himself evokes some of these ideals: to make the
patient capable of love, to privilege authenticity as opposed to the as
if or the false self, to reinforce independence . . . The least one could
say is that this frame imposes a powerful negotiation on whoever does
not give ground relative to his desire. But which negotiation? If it is
true that the so-called liberated modern world has created no new
perversions,13 can we have discovered any new responses to the old
and indelible perversity of our sadomasochistic freedoms?
And with this question, we are back at the starting point. Does
psychoanalysis restore to humankind the savagery of its desires, for
which there remains nothing but Redemption, which would turn psychoanalysis into a kind of Christocentrism without any God apart
from the Signifier? Or does psychoanalysis prefigure a form of atheism
that is thoughtful, perhaps even tragic, but immediately reinstates the
multiplicity of communal bonds, through their possible new beginning?
10
JULIA KRISTEVA
actual desires and fantasies thus liberated. Yet we all know that the
patients desire and its derivatives depend on the analysts way of
listening. But how? And to what end? There is still much work to be
done toward a better understanding of the role of countertransference,
if we wish to throw more light on the way that the patients freedom
unfolds in relation to the limitations of the analyst.
Before trying to answer this question, let me draw certain consequences from the fact that human desire is realized in psychoanalysis
from within a relational bond. The human subject who recognizes
himself there recognizes himself first as a subject of human plurality:17
concretely, the plurality of his family but also that of his analyst and of
other analysands. Thus, with the help of the analyst, the helplessness of
the end of my analysis, i.e., that I expect nothing from anyone (or, as
Chairman Mao used to say, I can count on nothing but my own
strengths) is first felt as a shared fate, something in common with the
suffering of others. But this community isnt really a community, for
no institution will officially embrace this shared experience, this perception of the plurality of the discarded (except psychoanalytic societies for the privileged, but that is another matter).
Moreover, to the extent that my analysis is terminated but not
finished, the suspension of the transferential bond in which a portion of
my drive life and my desires is left unelaborated and unsublimated
incites me to turn my aggression against every unity, identity, norm,
and value: in short, to make myself the subject of a perpetual rebellion,
an incessant questioning, a perpetual analysand.
Ultimately, for this reason exactlythe liberation of my desire
through its elaboration or sublimationI am in a state of perpetual
rebirth at the end of my analysis. Winnicott says something very new
and incontrovertible on this subject. He seems to hold that birth already
presupposes an autonomy of biopsychological life, making it possible
for the infant to withdraw from environmental impingement and to
avoid the traumatic violence of labour and delivery. This nuclear
independence would be the precondition, in a way, of the later internal
world, which Winnicott considers the most precious and mysterious
freedom inherent in being human. Indeed, human being is here meant
in the sense of being, as opposed to doing or acting. Winnicott rediscovers this freedom equally in the capacity to be alone and in the
11
isolation of the secret ballot in the democratic voting booth. Better still,
he finds it in the process of analytic treatment, in the undoing of the
false self constructed as a defence against external impingement, and
the recovery of that native interiority that, however, must always be
recreated, and thus alone makes us free. Freedom thus becomes synonymous with an interiority to be recreated in relation to an external
world to be internalised. This is not freedom in the sense of resisting
the two tyrants of instinctual desire and external reality, as Freud
thinks; but rather freedom as the interiorization of the outside, if and
only if this outside (to begin with, the mother) allows for play, and lets
itself be played with. In sum, at the end of an analysis terminated but
still infinite, we refind ourselves, and we rediscover ourselves, because
we have unveiled the freedom-unto-death of our desires, not only as
mortality, but as natalityto use Hannah Arendts term in The Life of
the Mind.18
This brings us to yet another perspective on freedom in psychoanalysis: far from the unrestraint19 of the one who will not give ground
relative to her desire, freedom in psychoanalysis implies two kinds of
issue that have already been encountered in philosophy. But psychoanalysis broaches each of them in a new way: the issue of choice and
the issue of beginning.
As the inheritors of humanism, we know that humankind (like the
work of art) has no end outside itself: man is his own end. It follows
that if freedom consists of the freedom to choose between good and
evil, we have no other aim to propose than the well-being of the human
subject, insofar as the latter proceeds from the subjects capacity to
establish a maximum of ties with others. From a psychoanalytic point
of view, this does not arise from a preoccupation with making the
subject socially useful to a community, according to some preestablished criteria (as ideologies and religions try to do). Rather, it is
to permit the flourishing of a diversity of relational bonds in the context
of communities that are mobile and subject to challenge. We are talking
about the subjects capacity to encounter others as others, and, to start
with, to encounter the analyst as other (which in principle ought to be
a criterion for termination of analysis). This capacity constitutes the
basis for a choice that permits the subject, outside the analytic
framework, to decide freely between good and evil. The more he is
able to transfer himself into the place of others, in order thus to
12
JULIA KRISTEVA
13
14
JULIA KRISTEVA
dalism, not to mention the new maladies of the soulpsychosomatosis, addiction, the diffusion of psychosis within neurotic
structures, and so on)all these phenomena indicate that it is the
system of recognition-denial itself that is in crisis.
Thus we have two models of freedom: freedom-adaptation, and
freedom-revelation.
The first of these (freedom-adaptation) was announced by Kant,
along with the French Revolution, in the Critique of Pure Reason
(1781) and Critique of Practical Reason (1789). Echoing the initium of
Augustine, Kant defines freedom for the first time, not negatively as
the transgression of a limit or a constraint, but positively as a selfbeginning (autocommencement). It is possible to relate his cosmological argument relative to Reason and Being to the more restricted plane
of human life in order to understand it: the capacity of each to undertake an action, to initiate an act from within. This is a magnificent idea
of freedom, but we can already see the possible deviations contained
within it: we are free to undertake . . . within the terms of a preestablished logical order, the moral logic of a god, the economic logic
of free enterprise, globalization, and the dollar.
The second model of freedom was linked by Heidegger, in his
reading of Kant, to pre-Socratic thought prior to the establishment of
logical categories and values. This other freedom has to do with the
revelation of self in the presence of the other through speech. Here I am
not concerned with making a point about the Christian connotations of
pre-Socratic philosophy, or details about the deconstruction of metaphysics implied in Heideggers debate with Kant; and even less with
the problem of political disengagement that Hannah Arendt tries to
solve in her proposed philosophy of judgement.22
I would say only that if this freedom-revelation, as opposed to
freedom-adaptation, has more than a speculative existence, it would be
in the transference-countertransference experience that it is actualized.
Free associating in the transference, the subject confronts both the
unspeakability of the instinctual drives, her desires, and their traumas,
and also the injunction that is imposed by the very fact of language (the
capacity to symbolize) as well as the place of the analyst. The subject
constitutes herself within herself for the other, and in this sense he
reveals herself: in the strong sense of the word, she frees herself.
15
16
JULIA KRISTEVA
17
18
JULIA KRISTEVA
19
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The translator would like to express his appreciation to Margaret-Ann
Fitzpatrick-Hanly, Marie-Claire Lanctt-Blanger, and Franois Sirois for
their generous assistance.
NOTES
1. A note on the text: All footnotes have been added by the translator,
except where the initials J. K. appear in parentheses.
2. The French conscience suggests both consciousness and conscience
throughout this text.
3. This is a modification of Stracheys translation, which is inaccurate. For
discussion of the translation of this passage, see Jean Imbeault, The
Hitlerian Superego, American Imago, 51 (2): 197212. See also Jean
Imbeault, Mouvements. Paris: Gallimard, 1997, pp. 97ff.
4. Freud, S. E. 21:122, emphasis added. Lullaby from Heaven
(Eiapopeia vom Himmel) is a quotation from Heinrich Heines poem
Deutschland. Heine is quoting a popular song of renunciation, in
which he adds, When they whimper, one must rock the people, that
enormous baby. (J. K.)
5. The Seminar of Jacques Lacan: Book 7: The Ethics of Psychoanalysis:
19591960 (1992), ed. Jacques-Alain Miller, trans. Dennis Porter. New
York: Norton, 1992, p. 3.
6. Kristevas reference is to Immanuel Kant, Critique of Judgement, section 40, Of Taste as a Kind of Sensus Communis. I have used the J.
H. Bernard translation (1951), New York: Hafner Press, pp. 13637.
See also Hannah Arendt (1971). The Life of the Mind, 2: Willing. New
York: Harcourt Brace, Appendix.
7. Hannah Arendt (1971). The Life of the Mind, 2: Willing. New York:
Harcourt Brace, 60f.
8. Kristeva is here alluding to the philosophy of existentialism, and in
particular to Jean-Paul Sartres trilogy of novels, The Roads to Freedom.
9. The Seminar of Jacques Lacan: Book 7: The Ethics of Psychoanalysis:
19591960 (1992), ed. Jacques-Alain Miller, trans. Dennis Porter. New
York: Norton, p. 176.
10. Kristeva here refers to ideas advanced by Heidegger in The Question
Concerning Technology and Poetry, Language, Thought.
20
JULIA KRISTEVA
21