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THE EMPIRICIST AS REBEL: JUNG, FREUD, AND THE BURDENS OF DISCIPLESHIP*
PAUL E. STEPANSKY
However little they share in common, both Freudian and Jungian comentators have long agreed that Jung’s theoretical development in the years following his psychoanalytic affiliation prompted an open“sp1it” with Freud and the psychoanalyticmovement. Careful examination of Jung’s principal“rebel” works does not sustain this thesis, however, but rather indicates Jung’s honest belief that his limited appro riation of certain psychoanalytic mechanisms and attendant theoretical modiLations constituted full-fledged loyalty to psychoanalysis as he understood it. This perception receives significant support from the Freud-Jung correspondence which reveals Jung openly articulating the ground rules defining his loyalty to psychoanalysis fts early as 1906, and Freud accepting, and even approving, his prot6g6‘s empirical reservations over the course of the next five years.
“It is a hard lot to have to work alongside the father creator.” -Jung to Freud December 25, 1909 I With a brutal finality that transformed uneasy collaboration into bitter antagonism, both Sigmund Freud and Carl Gustav Jung would seek to uncover the sources of their “professional” differences within the exclusionist realm of their respective depth psychologies. Writing only a year after the Munich “split” of 1913, Freud reduced a complex chain of events to its most elementary psychological substratum. “The whole range of Jung’s innovations” had but one purpose: “to eliminate what is disagreeable in the family complexes, so as not to find it again in religion and ethics. For sexual libido an abstract concept has been substituted, of which one may safely say that it remains mystifying and incomprehensible to wise men and fools alike.” In order to preserve his “incomprehensible” system intact, Jung had found it necessary “to turn entirely away from observation and from the technique of psycho-analysis.”‘ In the short autobiographical study he wrote eleven years later, Freud had not mellowed. Jung remained a pitiably “infantile” secessionist whose fresh interpretation of the facts of analysis sought only “to escape the need for recognizing the importance of infantile sexuality and of the Oedipus complex as well as the necessity for any analysis of childhood.”2
*I am grateful for the encouragement and critical comments of Professor Franklin Baumer, Department of History, and David Musto, M.D., Departments of History and Psychiatry, Yale University. 1. Sigmund Freud, “On the History of the Psychoanalytic Movement (1914),” in The Standard Edition of the Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud (hereafter SE), trans. and ed. James Strachey et al. (London: The Hogarth Press and the Institute of Psycho-Analysis, 1953-1964); 14: 62-63. 2. Sigmund Freud, “An Autobiographical Study (1925),” SE, 20:53.
A graduate of Princeton University, where he was a University Scholar in the history of psychoanalysis, PAUL STEPANSHY currently a Ph.D. candidate in European intellectual history E. is at Yale University, and has begun work on a dissertation that WiU ezamine the thought of Alfred Adler in the contezt of both European inteUectua1 hzstory and the history of the psychoanalgtic movement, This past Spring, he was named one of Yale University’s first Kanzer Fund Fellows for Psychoanalytic Studies in the Humanities.
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Jung’s rejoinder, if not so virulent, issued from comparable premises. Arguing in 1929 that every psychology-his own included-had the character of a subjective confession, he submitted that “What Freud has to say about sexuality, infantile pleasure . . . as well as what he says about incest and the like, can be taken as the truest expression of his personal p~ychology.”~ n his autobiography, Memmies, I Dreams, Reflections, Jung confessed that he had been struck with Freud’s (‘emotional involvement” with the sexual theory from their very first meeting of February, 1907. Intuiting then that Freud envisioned sexuality as a veritable numinosum, Jung was later “bewildered and embarrassed” when the Master beseeched him to make the sexual theory his own “unshakable bulwark.” “One thing was clear,” he wrote, “Freud, who had always made much of his irreligiosity, had now constructed a dogma; or rather, in the place of a jealous God whom he had lost, he had substituted another compelling image, that of sexuality.”4 Such retrospective judgments, though illuminating from a psychobiographical perspective, constitute a relative stumbling block for the historian of psychoanalysis who must synchronize institutional development with the theoretical state of the profession. In this case, the almost instantaneous psychological clarity with which each man sized up his antagonist does not quite square with the chronology that was to emerge. If Jung’s second reading of The Interpretation of Dreams in 1903 convinced him he (‘could not agree with Freud on the content of repression,”5 and if it took but one meeting to convince him of Freud’s emotionally charged theoretical inflexibility, why did he consent to become his foremost prot6g6, the prospective leader who would shoulder responsibilities that had grown too oppressive for Freud himself?G On the other hand, if Freud came t o perceive Jung’s innovations as defensive attempts to evade the “repulsive” sexual level of psychoanalytic insight, how could he overlook this conspicuous trend in Jung’s thought as long as he did, and why would he single out Jung as his chosen successor in spite of it? As early as 1906, before his formal introduction to the Master, Jung’s defense of the Freudian theory of hysteria incorporated heuristic distinctions between the “psychology of sexuality” and the “wider range of Freud’s psychology, that is, the psychology of dreams, jokes, and disturbances of ordinary thinking caused by feelingtoned constellations,” while cautiously arguing that Freud’s assumption that all hysteria reduced t o sexuality was “subject to the general limitation which applies to empirical axiom^."^
3. C. G. Jung, “Freud and Jung: Contrasts (1929),” in Colketed W O : (hereafter CW), trans. ~ R. F. C. Hull (New York: Pantheon Books and Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1954-1973)) 4: 334-335. 4. C. G. Jung, Memories, Dreams, ReJlectwns, trans. Richard and Clara Winston (New York: Vintage Books, 1963)) p. 151. Cf. Philip Rieff, The Triumph of the Therapeutic (New York: Harper and Row, 1966)) p. 111: According to Jung, Freud’s trouble “was that he had remained a Jew who had merely exchanged ritual obedience to the law of the Hebrew God for intellectual obedience t o the laws of sexuality.” 5. Ibid., 147-149. 6. Freud, “On the History of the Psychoanalytic Movement,’’ SE,14: 43. 7. C. G. Jung, “Freud’s Theory of Hysteria: A Reply to Aschaffenburg (1906), ” CW, 4 3 4 Jung :-. forwarded Freud an offprint of the Reply to Aschaffenburg, circumscribing it in the following way: “I have tailored it a bit to my subjective standpoint, so you may not agree with everything in it. I hope I haven’t misrepresented you! In any case I wrote it out of honest conviction” (Jung to Freud 26 November, 1906, in The FreWllJung Letters (hereafter FJL), William McGuire, trans. Ralph ed. Manheim and R. F. C. Hull (Princeton: Princeton Umversity Press, 19741, p. 9. Th? ‘ f e t e r d a m Report” figured in an obtuse exchange of mid-April 1908, when Jung expressed some rmsgivlngs about
PAUL E. STEPANSKY
Moreover, Jung was forthright and direct in expressing his empirical qualms. “What I can appreciate and what has helped us here in our psychopathological work,” he wrote Freud on 5 October 1906, (‘are your psychological views, while I am still pretty far from understanding the therapy and the genesis of hysteria beCause our material on hysteria is rather meagre. . . . it seems t o me that though the genesis of hysteria is predominantly, it is not exclusively, sexual.” Jung proceeded to make clear to Freud the discriminating grounds on which his loyalty to psychoanalytic doctrine should be construed. The “sexual theory,” he observed, involved only ((delicate theoretical questions.” Freud’s “psychology,” on the other hand, was “the essential thing.”s I n offering this impressionistic but vital distinction, Jung openly formulated a professional posture that, for the duration of his psychoanalytic collaboration, would constitute both pledge and project. The pledge was to espouse a “psychoanalysis” not as doctrine but as investigatory guide; the project was to use this guide to arrive “empirically” at a developmental psychology that would be personally satisfying in terms of his own clinical understanding and experience. Freud was quick to acknowledge the scruples of his prospective follower: “Your writings have long led me t o suspect that your appreciation of my psychology does not extend t o all my views on hysteria and the problem of sexuality,” he wrote Jung on 7 October 1906, “but I venture t o hope that in the course of the years you will come much closer t o me than you now think po~sible.”~ a reply written two In weeks later, Jung readily conceded that his reservations about Freud’s “far-reaching views” might well be due t o lack of experience, but nonetheless voiced clear “alarm” at the “positivism” of Freud’s presentation and questioned whether . . a number of borderline phenomena might be considered more appropriately in terms of the other basic drive: hunger.”1° In a letter of 4 December 1906, Jung reiterated his aversion to Freud’s positivism in a tone that was deferent but explicit: I I confine myself t o advocating the bare minimum, this is simply because I f can advocate only as much as I myself have unquestionably experienced, and that, in comparison with your experience, is naturally very little. I am only beginning t o understand many of your formulations and several of them are still beyond me, which does not mean by a long shot that I think you are wrong. I have gradually learnt t o be cautious even in disbelief.””
Jung’s cautious disavowal of Freud’s ‘(positivism” did not initially dampen his commitment t o that dimension of the theory that he believed essential, but it did conspicuously qualify his published endorsement of the psychoanalytic credo. I n his 1907 exposition of “The Freudian Theory of Hysteria,” Jung noncommittally submitted that Freud had “never propounded a cut-and-dried theory of hysteria,” that his discoveries did not a t present “lend themselves to the framing of general theories,” and that prospective adherents need not “be put off by the obtrusion of
the content of the report and appealed to Freud for criticism (Jung to Freud, 18 Apra 1908, FJL p. 139). Freud curtly responded that “only the sentence about child hysteria struck me as incorrect’’ (Freud to Jung, 19 April 1908, F J L , p. 140),. though nine months later he would cite approvingly a Juhrbuch paper in which Jung “avenged (hunself) brilliantly for Amsterdam” (Freud to Jung, 22 January 1909, FJL, p. 201). 8. Jung to Freud, 5 October 1906, FJL,pp. 4-5. 9. Freud to Jung, 7 October 1906, FJL, p. 5. 10. Jung to Freud, 23 October 1906, FJL, p. 7. 11. Jung to Freud, 4 December 1906, FJL, pp. 10-11.
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sexuality, for as a rule you come upon many other, exceedingly interesting things f which, at least to begin with, show no trace of sex.”i2 I theoretical reservations like these actually expressed Jung’s latent resistance to the doctrine he espoused, it would seem that Freud’s belated recognition of this fact embodied a dose of resistance just as great. In all probability it was Freud’s refusal to act more quickly and decisively than he did that provided the ominous potential for disparate perceptions to develop : quite obviously, Jung’s conception of loyalty to Freud was never the same as Freud’s conception of loyalty t o Freud. This essay takes its raison d’6tre from the weight of this final assumption. If Jung never conceived of psychoanalysis in the same way that Freud did, his “break” with Freud loses much of the intent and finality that critics would later ascribe to it. Admittedly, much of the interpretive problem lies with Jung and Freud themselves. With the passing of time (with Freud it took only one year) both men claimed to foresee the fatal course their collaboration would take with a retrospective clarity that belied their expectations and working assumptions at the time. Yet, later disciples and explicators have been something short of helpful in penetrating beneath their own propagandistic verbiage. Ernest Jones, however beneficent his intentions, has probably done more harm than good in perpetuating current misconceptions. For Jones, Jung can never be more than a tragic weakling whose enthusiastic endorsement of Freud’s work and theories from 1906 to 1910 was destined to succumb to “the recurring wave of resistance” which impelled him to abandon sexual “truth” for his own disfigured variants of “libido” and Edward Glover has carried the haughty preconceptions of Freud and Jones to the fullest and most ridiculous lengths: Jung is a truculent misfit whose theoretical divergence is a veritable function of his psychopathic need to oppose Freud on any terms.14 The Jungians, if more sober, have been equally unhelpful. They prefer to evaluate Jung’s positive contribution in timeless spiritual terms that obscure his unpretentious clinical origins.l6 The pronounced tendency, therefore, has been to take the later Jung’s retrospective assessment of the situation a t face value, to explain the sources of Jung’s “break” with Freud by referring to the anti-Freudian resting place at which mature “Analytical Psychology” would ultimately arrive. For Ira Progoff, Freud simply did not understand history or religion; Jung did. For Jolan Jacobi, Jung acknowledged the clinical explanatory power of man’s inborn “spiritual and religious need”; Freud did not. For Georges Verne, Jung’s departure from the Freudians related largely to his personal dissatisfaction with a reductive unconscious that was valueless as a guide to the future.16
12. C. G. Jung, “The Freudian Theory of Hysteria (1907), ” C W , 4: 10, 18. 13. Ernest Jones, The Life and Work of Sigmund Freud (New York: Basic Books, 1953-1957), 2: 126-129, 137-151. 14. Edward Glover, Freud or Jung (New York: W. W. Norton, 1950), passim, especially pp. 45, 67-69. 15. E.g., Eleanor Bertine, Jung’s Contribution to our Time (New York: C. G. Jung Foundation for Analytical Psychology, 1967), especially pp. 3-30. 16. Ira Progoff, Jung’s Psychology and its Social Meaning (New York: Julian Press, 1953), p. 9 ; Jolan Jacobi, The Psychologg of Jung, trans. K. W. Bash (New Haven: Yale Uqiversity Press, 1943), pp. 59-60; George Verne, A Travers C. G. Jung: Retour a l’Authenticit6,” in Contact with Jung: Essays on the Influence of his Work and Personality, ed., Michael Fordham, (Philadelphia and Montreal: Lippincott, 1963), p. 16. Progoff has written a provocative reinterpretation of the whole course of modern depth psychology on the basis of this kind of Jungian bias, The Death and Rebirth of Psychology, (NewYork: Julian Press, 1956).
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The historians of psychoanalysis, with the notable exception of Henri Ellenberger,” have done nothing but superficially reduce the “break” t o one or two ‘(divisive” concepts. Ives Hendrick, Clara Thompson, Ruth Munroe, and J. A. C. Brown all trace Jung’s resignation from the International Psychoanalytic Society to his inability t o share Freud’s views on the primacy and differentiation of sexual libido from other types of psychic energy.’* Roland Dalbiez traces ‘(la divergence entre les deux 6coles” to “la notion de symbole,” concentrating on Jung’s unhappiness with a notion of symbol that reduced ideas to more or less deficient substitutes of an original image or sensation.19 A. Hesnard can do no more than locate the break in a “certaine tendance philosophique et mystique” that first erupted in Wandlungen and Symbole der Libido.20 A close look at the relevant Jungian texts throws into serious doubt the collective impression these commentators seek to make: there are no significant “breaks” between Jung’s “psychoanalytic” writings and the immediately post-Freudian material which came to embody his “revolt.” Instead, the careful reader discovers a consistent conception of what psychoanalysis actually meant and of what Freud might legitimately expect of his followers. The two early papers on hysteria we have cited plainly establish the leitmotif of this conception; for Jung, the early Freud was destined t o remain an open-minded empiricist whose theoretical formulations were never meant to exceed the limited clinical material on which they were based.21 Consequently, Jung’s endorsement of the fundamental tenets of psychoanalysis could never partake of Freud’s emotional conviction. I n his early writings, cautious enthusiasm about the significance of Freud’s clinical breakthroughs is invariably teamed with irritating academic qualifications that would have been anathematic to the true “convert)) of that time. In his defense of the Freudian theory of hysteria before the First International Congress of Psychiatry and Neurology in September, 1907, Jung reduced Freud’s “theory” to a “working hypothesis” and added that “no one knows whether Freud’s schema is applicable to all forms of hysteria.”22 I n 1909, he considered Freud’s method of dream analysis
17. Ellenberger alone seems to recognize the fact that there wm a fundamental misunderstanding “from the very start” with reference t o the conception of discipleship. See Henri Ellenberger, The LXscovery of the Unconscious (New York: Basic Books, 1970), pp. 669-670. 18. Ives Hendrick, Facts and Theories of Psychoanalysis (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1939), p. 310; Clara Thompson, Psychoanalysis: Evolution and Development (New York: Hermitage House, 1951), p. 163; Ruth L. Munroe, Schools of Psychoanalytic Thought (New York: Dryden Press, 1955), pp. 539-544; J. A. C. Brown, Freud and the Post-Freudians (Baltimore: Penguin Books, 1961), p. 42. 19. Roland Dalbiea, La Mdthode PsychanalyLique et la Doctrine Freudienne (Paris: Descl6e de Broucoer et Cie, 1936), 1: 170-174. Cf. Jolande Jacobi. Complex, Archetype, Symbol, trans. Ralph Manheim (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 19591, pp. 88-94. 20. A. Hesnard, L’Oeuvre de. Freud et son Zmportance pour le Monde Moderne (Paris: Payot, 1960), 107. Cf. Morris Philipson, Outline of a Jungian Aesthetics (Illinois: Northwestern University ffress, 1963), p. 52. 21. On 31 March 1907, Jung reacted negatively to the publication of Otto Rank’s doctoral dissertation Der Kzinstler: Ansatze zu einer Sexualpsychologie [The Artist: An Attempted Sexual Psychology] complaining to Freud that Rank’s “broadened conception of sexuality” was confusing and antithetical to the thrust of Freud’s own terminology. He continued:“One also has the uncomfortable feeling that Rank ‘jurat in verba magistri’ and lacks empiricism. In reading him I have more than once had to think of Schilling and Hegel. But your theory is pure empiricism and should be p r e sented empirically too. At any rate this beckons me onward as my foremost task.” Jung t o Freud, 31 March 1907, F J L , p. 26; cf. Jung to Freud, 11 March 1908, F J L , p. 134 22. Jung, “The Freudian Theory of Hysteria,” CW, 4: 23.
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‘(a valuable instrument for resolving or overcoming the most tenacious resistances,” but reminded his readers that the central distinction between manifest and latent dream content was founded not on a dogma, “but on empiricism alone.”2a Jung had one solid clinical contribution t o his credit that approached the orthodox mold. I n “The Significance of the Father in the Destiny of the Individual (1909))” he refracted the typical “parental constellation” as a “libidinal” obstacle which the healthy child could successfully overcome. Here, Jung was confident that “the magic power of the parents t o bind their children to themselves” consisted of “nothing but sexuality on both sides,’’ and was willing t o reduce the typical “infantile attitude” of parental dependence to “nothing but infantile sexuality.”24 Such token bits of clinical reductionism were never sufficient t o overcome his empirical reluctance to generalize, however. In his “Contribution to the Psychology of Rumour (1910-1911),” Jung properly reduced a simple schoolgirl dream t o a wish for sexual union. In his review of Morton Prince’s The Mechanism and Interpretation of Dreams (1911) he ingeniously read erotic wish-fulfdlment into the ostensibly nonsexual dreams of Prince’s patient. Nevertheless, he reiterated in a short piece “On the Criticism of Psychoanalysis (1910)” that Freud’s method was in reality “purely empirical and totally lacking in any final theoretical framework.”26
I1 Wandlungen und Symbole der Libido (1911-1912)26was the central Jungian
text that purportedly burst through the Freudian dike. I n his 1950 foreward t o the fourth edition, Jung characterized the writing of the book as the veritable “explosion of all those psychic contents which could find no room, no breathingspace, in the constricting atmosphere of Freudian psychology and its narrow outlook.” He proceeded to gauge his internal explosion, not against Freud’s theory of neurosis per se, but to ‘( . . . the reductive causalism of his whole outlook, and the almost complete disregard of the teleological directedness which is so characteristic of everything psychic.”27 I n his autobiography, Jung reiterated the psychological momentousness of the book’s execution. By the time he was approaching the end of the final chapter, “The Sacrifice,” he “knew in advance that its publication would cost me my friendship with Freud.” This realization proved so unnerving that, despite the reassurance of his wife, Jung could not touch his pen for two months: “Should I keep my thoughts to myself, or should I risk the loss of so important a friendship? At last I resolved to go ahead with the writing-and it did indeed cost me Freud’s friendship.”28 These reminiscences reveal how the later Jung came t o construe the sign%cance of Wandlungen und Symbole der Libido from the vantage point of mature
23. C. G. Jung,“The Analysis of Dreams (1909),” CW, 4:30-31, 25. 24. C. G. Jung, “The Significance of the Father in the Destiny of the Individual (1909),” CW, 4: 317n and 320n. 25. C. G. Jung, “A Contribution to the Psychology of Rumour (1910),” CW, 4: 35-47; C. G. Jung, “Morton Prince, ‘The Mechanism and Interpretation of Dreams’: A Critical Review (lgll),” CW, 4: 56-73; C. G. Jung, “On the Criticism of Psychoanalysis (1910)) CW, 4:75. 26. Beatrice HinkIe trans., The Psychology of the unconscious: A Study of the T r a n s f o m t i o n s and Symbolisms of the Libido (New York: Moffat, Yard, and Co., 1916). 27. C. G. Jung, “Symbols of Transformation (1911/1912; 1952),” CW, 5: xrdii. 28. Jung, M e m i e s , Dreams, Reflections, P. 167.
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Analytical Psychology; they tell us considerably less about his attitude a t the time the book was written. I n its inception, Jung’s commitment to the psychoanalytic exploration of mythology and archaeology hardly represented a self-conscious thrust at Freud’s “reductive causalism.” Indeed, from the summer of 1909 to the summer of 1910, the two men were equally enthusiastic about expanding psychoanalytic inquiry in this direction, and they mutually reinforced joint aspirations in the correspondence of this period. It was Freud whose speculative explorations into the character of Leonard0 da Vinci first enabled him to broach “an interesting excursion into archaeology” replete with “ideas about the nature of symboli~m,”~~ and Freud again capped Jung’s reciprocating interests with the jubilant imperative: “I am glad you share my belief that we must conquer the whole field of mythology. . . . We need men for more far-reaching carnpaign~.”~~ November, 1909 Freud By was actively prodding Jung forward in his esoteric investigation^,^^ and by early January he could placate Jung’s irritation at the suggested need for full-time archeologists and philologists with the following mollifying endorsement: Your displeasure a t my longing for an army of philosophical collaborators is music to my ears. I am delighted that you yourself take this interest so seriously, that you yourself wish to be this army; I could have dreamed of nothing better but simply did not suspect that mythology and archaeology had taken such a powerful hold on The correspondence continues in this ebullient vein through the fall of 1910. Freud gives his complete sympathy to Jung’s “deepended view of symbolism”; he is “overjoyed” that mythology has given Jung the ‘‘ ‘fairytale forest feeling’ that comes of a sound conception”; and by June he is “eagerly awaiting” Jung’s emergent mythology. In late June, Freud reacts t o a draft essay that would be expanded into Part 1 of Wandlungen und Symbole der Libido and finds that while lacking “ultimate clarity,” “everything essential (in your essay) is right.” By July, he sees even this temperate criticism as “premature,” compliments Jung in October on the intuitive way he proceeded in his mythological work, and is “looking forward eagerly” t o the “reborn paper.”33 When in the spring of 1911 Jung’s preoccupation with the psychology of religion and mythology trails off into a more subterranean interest in the occult, Freud’s explorational partnership in these matters does not flag for an instant: I am aware that you are driven by innermost inclination to the study of the occult and I am sure you will return home richly laden. I cannot argue with that, it is always right to go where your impulses lead.34 By June, Freud’s perspective on occultism had “grown humble” under the impact of occult experiences related to him by Ferencei after the Clark University conference of 1909 and subsequently discussed with Jung :
29. Freud to Jung, 9 August 1909, F J L , p. 245. 30. Freud t o Jung, 17 October 1909, F J L , p. 255. 31. “I wa6 delighted t o learn that you are going into mythology. A little less loneliness. I can’t wait t o hear of your discoveries.’’ Freud t o Jung, 11 November 1909, F J L , p. 260. 32. Freud t o Jung, 2 January 1910, F J L , p. 282. 33. Freud to Jung, 2 February 1910, F J L , p. 291; Freud to Jung, 22 April 1910, F J L , p. 310; Freud to Jung, 9 June 1910, F J L , p. 328; Freud t o Jung, undated, F J L , p. 335; Freud to Jung, 5 July 1910, F J L , p. 338; Freud t o Jung, 1 October 1910, FJL, p. 358; Freud to Jung, 23 October 1910, F J L , p. 362. 34. Freud t o Jung, 12 May 1911, F J L , p. 422.
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I n matters of occultism I have grown humble since the great lesson Ferenc~’s experiences gave me. I promise to believe anything that can be made t o look reasonable.36 The collaborative understanding explicit in this phase of the correspondence is fully consistent with textual analysis of the “rebel” work in question. Close study of Wandlungen und Xyrnbole der Libido hardly convinces one of Jung’s violent antipathy t o Freud’s causal reductionism. However “deviant” his exploration of the symbol-making collective unconscious may have seemed, it was Freud himself who, for Jung, provided both the materials and the rationale for his inquiry. If present-day psychoanalytic researchers might now begin to confront the “indissoluble common bond bind(ing) us to the people of antiquity,” this was the direct legacy of Freud’s “rediscovery of the Oedipus and if the time had arisen for analysts to broaden individual analyses with a comparative study of historical materials relating t o them, the model for such expansion was Freud’s own “masterly” study of Leonard0 da V i n ~ i . Moreover, if the psyche in fact ~~ possessed some degree of unconscious historical strata in addition t o “private” infantile reminiscences, these might only be activated by introversion followed by regression “according to the Freudian teaching.” Lastly, however extensive the classical and philological themes contained in the Miller fantasies, Miss Miller’s “vision of creation” remains first and foremost a function of an “erotic impression”; the source of her symbolical productions is “an erotic I n the second chapter of Part I1 of the book, “The Conception and the Genetic Theory of Libido,” Jung appeared to drive an immovable wedge between his own theoretical foundations and those of Freud. UnabIe to reduce either the “function of reality” or pathogenic retreats from reality to an exculsive function of a Eibido sexualis, Jung chose to replace the descriptive definition of libido contained in Freud’s Three Essays on the Theory of Sexuality with a broader generic model; libido in reality signified “psychic energy” as a universal creative power. For most Jungian and Freudian commentators, this was the decisive reformulation which made a “split” inevitable. Once again, however, protagonists identified with a mature Jungian or Freudian “tradition” have overlooked the perspective from which Jung’s reformulation emerged. For Jung, the expanded field of application of the libido concept did not represent a dramatic “break” with the past; it rather embodied a general change that had occurred since the narrow formulation of the Three Contributions, and
35. Freud to Jung, 15 June 1911, FJL, p. 429. It is not clear what specific experiences affected Freud so greatly. For Ferenczi’s preoccupation with the occult and his general influence on Freud during this time, however, see Ernest Jones, The Life and Work of Sigmund Freud (New York: Basic Books, 1957), 3: 383-389. 36. Since Jung’s Collected Works contain only the 1952 rewritten version of Wandlungen und Symbole &r Libido, I cite both the original German Deuticke edition and the early authorized translation by Beatrice Hinkle. C. G. Jung, Wandlungenund Symbole der Libido: Beitruge zur Entwicklungsgeschichte des Denkens (Leipzig und Wien: Franz Deuticke, 1912), p. 5; C. G. Jung, The Psychology o the Uncmcious: A Study of the Transformationsand Symbolisms of the Libido, trans. Beatrice M. f Hinkle (New York: Moffat, Yard and Co., 1916), p. 5. 37. See Jung to Freud, 17 June 1910, FJL, p. 329; “Leonard0 i wonderful. s The transition to mythology grows out of this essay from inner necessity, actually it is the fist essay of yours with whose inner development I felt perfectly in tune from the start.” Also, Jung to Freud, 11 August 1910, FJL, p. 345. 38. Jung, Wandlungen uncl Symbole der Libido, pp. 32, 57, 61; Jung, Psychology of the U c n c o s nosiu, pp. 37, 67, 72.
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one which could be attributed to Freud himself. To justify his own theoretical amplification, Jung cites not only his own clinical investigation of dementia praecox, but Freud’s analysis of paranoia in the Schreber case history.39 I n a long quotation drawn from this work, Jung cites Freud’s own inability to accept the “universal receding of the libido from the outer world” as a “sufficiently effectual” explanation of the withdrawal from reality experienced in the psychoses. Here, the immature state of instinct theory leaves Freud “absolutely helpless” to explain how the withdrawal of “libidinal interest” might precipitate the withdrawal of a specifically nonlibidinal kind of “ego interest,” but he nonetheless feels it probable that “processes of this sort form the distinctive character of the Jung seizes upon this revelation with epigonic reverence. It is Freud himself who “plainly touches upon the question whether the well-known longing for reality of the paranoic dement . . . is to be traced back to the withdrawal of the ‘libidinous affluxes’ alone, or whether this coincides with the so-called objective interest in general.” On this basis, Jung claims “that Freud as well as myself, s&wthe need of widening the conception of libido,”41and justifies his current project as a logical attempt t o supplement an acknowledged clinical skeleton with concrete historical and philological material. Yet, even in appealing to Freud to convert the meaning of libido to a Schopenhauerian “will to live,” Jung takes special care not to disavow the legacy of Freudian sexuality proper. His “energic” exegesis centers around a unified “primal” libido, an undifferentiated pool of sexual energy from which ‘(affluxes” of sexual libido are deflected from their original destination and gradually turned “in the phylogenetic impulses of the mechanisms of allurement and of protection of the young.” In various functional disturbances, he claims that the function of reality is incapacitated not only through an imbalance of “sexual” energy, but through the loss of more recent adaptational modes to which an already differentiated and desexualized quantity of libido has been applied.42 From a strict developmental standpoint, however, Jung is careful to subordinate the “diverse applications and forms” which the libido may ultimately assume to its sexual function proper: With the development of the body there are successively opened new spheres of application for the libido. The last sphere of application, and surpassing all the others in its functional significance, is sexuality, which seems at first bound up with the function of nutrition. . , . I n the territory of sexuality, the libido wins that formation, the enormous importance of which has justified us in the use of the term libido in general.“
39. See Sigmund Freud, “Psycho-Analytic Notea on an Autobiographical Account of a Case of Paranoia (Dementia Paranoides) (lgll),’ SE, 12: 9-82. The passage Jung cites is found in pp. 73-75. 40. Jung, Wandlungen und Symbole der Libido, pp. 122-123; Jung, Psychology of the Unconscious, pp. 140-141. 41. Ibid. Cf. Wandlungen und Symbole der Libido, pp. 131-132; Psychology of the Unconscious, p. 152. 42. Jung, Wandlungen und Symbole der Libido, pp. 130-132, 125-126; Jung, Psychology of the Unconscious, pp. 150-153, 144-145. When Jung writes that “countless complicated functions to whch to-day must be denied any sexual character were originally pure derivations from the general impulse of propagation,” (Wandlungen,pp. 125-126; psychology, 144-145), he really seems to be saying much the same thing that Heinz Hartmann would through the concept of the “secondary autonomy of ego development,” i.e. the notion that ego functions can become independent of the instinctual drives on which they are initially dependent. See Heina Hartmann, Essays on Ego Psychology (New York: International Universities Press, 1964), pp. 105, 123, 134-137, 152, 177. f 43. Jung, Wandlungenund Symbole der Libido, p. 129; Jung, Psychology o the Unconscious,pp. 148149.
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Critical scholarship has similarly overvalued the reformulation of the “incest” concept Jung undertook in this work. The direction this change would take was personally communicated to Freud in a letter of 17 May 1912. Jung’s cautious phraseology and deferent tone hardly befit the truculent rebel he has been made out to be. He ventures the “bold conjecture” that the free-floating anxiety of primitive man may have led t o the incest taboo as part of a more general creation of taboo ceremonies and that the incest taboo thus conceived need not correspond with the specific value of incest sensu slrictiori. From this standpoint, he suggests that incest is forbidden not because it is desired, ‘‘ . . . but because the free-floating anxiety regressively reactivates infantile material and turns it into a ceremony of atonement (as though incest had been, or might have been desired).”44 I n this manner, Jung never denies the existence of ontogenetic incest fantasies; he simply refuses to equate them with the institutional significance of the incest taboo. The incest prohibition is not the singular offshoot of a strong incest wish, but as a special psychological institution, it possesses “a much greater-and differentsignificance than the prevention of incest, even though it may look the same from the In the crucial chapter in Wandlungen und Symbole der Libido on “Symbolism of the Mother and Rebirth,’’ Jung never went beyond this level of supplementary, archaelogical insight, To be sure, he alleges that the Sun Myth “proves . . . that the fundamental basis of the ‘incestuous’ desire does not aim at cohabitation, but a t the special thought of becoming a child again, of turning back to the parents’ protection, of coming into the mother once more in order to be born again.”46 Yet this remains a cosmic, metapsychological goal not significantly different from the implications of Freud’s own concept of “primal narcis~ism.”~~ an instruOn mental level, Jung fully acknowledges the importance of “sexual” incest as the intervening psychological reality precluding fulfillment of the more grandiose cosmic quest. Orthodox Freudians notwithstanding, Jung never denies the “sexual” immediacy of the incest prohibition on the ontogenetic level; indeed, it is the sexual reality of the prohibition which prompts the spiritualization of libido in mythical fantasies and religious systems, for only in this sublimated way can the mother be symbolically i m ~ r e g n a t e d . ~ ~ Moreover, as clinician, Jung is hardly averse to the reduction of such symbolic religious activities to their root libidinal substrate. In Christianity, he sees the “negative of the ancient sexual cult,” that source of personal value which transformed the brutal depreciation of the sexual object into the unattainable, symbolic quest for the mother. Through the impetus of the incest resistance, “the beautiful, sinful world of the Olympian God” was transmuted into “incomprehensible,
44. Jung to Freud, 17 May 1912, FJL, p. 505. C . also Jung to Freud, 27 April 1912, FJL, p. 502 E and June; to Freud, 8 May 1912, FJL, pp. 502-503. 4.5. Jung to Freud,’ 17 May 1912, FJL, pp. 505-506. 46. Jung, Wandlungen und Symbole der Libido, p. 216; Jung, Psychology of the Unconscious, p. 251. 47. See Sigmund Freud, “On Narcissism: An Introduction (1914),” SE, 14: 87-88. The most stimulating interpretation of the cosmic implications o “primal narcissism” remains Norman 0. f Brown, Life Against Death: The Psychoanalytical Meanzng of History (New York: Vmtage Books, 1959), up. 4C-54. 48. .j&g, Wandlungen und Symbok der Libido, pp. 216-222; Jung, Psychology of the Unconscious, pp. 215-258.
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dreamlike, dark mysteries, which with their accession of symbols and obscure meaningful texts, remove us very far from the religious feelings of that RomanGraeco World.,,49 Yet is such spiritual refinement of the libido intrinsically desirable? In a spirit directly reminiscent of Freud’s polemical tract, “Civilized Sexual Morality and Modern Nervousness (1908),” Jung replies in the negative. As a result of such religious displacements : There are those who have not yet learned to recognize sexuality as a function equivalent t o hunger and who, therefore, consider it as disgraceful that certain taboo institutions which were considered as asexual refuges are now recognised as overflowing with sexual symbolism. . . . One must learn to understand that, opposed to the customary habit of thought, psychoanalytic thinking reduces and resolves those symbolic structures which have become more and more complicated through countless elaborations.s0 Consequently, for the “countless neurotics” who are ill through an inability “to seek happiness in their own manner,” Jung prescribes the proper Freudian remedy: For all these, reduction to the sexual elements should be undertaken, in order that they may be reinstated into the possession of their primitive self, and thereby learn t o know and value its relation to the entire personality. I n this way alone can certain requirements be fulfilled and others be repudiated as unfit because of their infantile character.6l
Earlier in Wandlungen und Symbole der Libido Jung traced the need to expand the libido concept, not only to Freud’s analysis of paranoia in the Schreber case history, but t o his own previous work with schizophrenics. I n his important study ffber die Psychologie der Dementia PraecoxK2Jung first made use of the expression ‘(psychic energy” because he ‘(was unable to establish the theory of this psychosis upon the conception of the displacement of the affluxes of libido.” Unlike the hysteric and compulsive neurotics whose impairment involved only the regressive introversion of a portion of libido, he commented, his dementia praecox patients were not simply lacking “that portion of libido which is saved in the well-known specific sexual repression . . . but much more than one could write down to the account of sexuality in a strict sense.”63 If psychotic impairment could not be rationalized in terms of a libido energetics narrowly conceived, the time had obviously arrived to broaden the concept. This retrospective assessment of his own clinical work reinforced a calculated strategy to dispel any aura of dissension: not only is Freud himself authoritatively cited in the theoretical reworking of i the libido concept, but Jung refers to h s own clinical experience as a compelling therapeutic reason for the change. Yet one important issue remains : how self-evident was the clinical inadequacy of the libido concept in ffber die Psychologie der Dementia Praecox itself? Had Jung actually considered a (‘break” with Freud implicit in this 1907 study? Once again,
49. Jung, W a d l u n g e n und Symbole der Libido, p. 220; Jung, Psychology of the Unconscious, p. 256. 50. J u g , Wandlungen und Symbole der Libido, p. 221; Jung, PsychoEogy of the Wnconscious, p. 257. 51. J u g , Wandlungen und Symbole der Libido, p. 223; Jung, Psychology of the Unconscious, p. 260. 52. R. F. C. Hull, trans., The Psychology of Dementia Praecox in the Collected Works, vol. 3, (New York: Pantheon Books, 1960). 53 J u g , Wandlungen und Symbole der Libdo, P. 124; h u g , Psychology of the Unconscious, p. 143.
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the most likely answer is no, but it presupposes Jung’s own heuristic distinction between the empirical open-endedness of psychoanalytic principles and the more tentative findings t o which Freud’s private clinical material pointed. I n lffber die Psychologie der Dementia Praecox as in Wandlungen und Symbole der Libido, Jung remains a devoted Freudian, but on his own Oerms. This becomes immediately clear in the Foreword to the work, where Jung expresses his indebtedness to “the brilliant discoveries of Freud,” but immediately circumscribes the nature of his loyalty: Fairness to Freud, however, does not imply, as many fear, unqualified submission to a dogma; one can very well maintain an independent judgment. If I, for instance, acknowledge the complex mechanisms of dreams and hysteria, this does not mean that I attribute to the infantile sexual trauma the exclusive importance that Freud apparently does. Still less does it mean that I place sexuality so predominantly in the foreground, or that I grant it the psychological universality which Freud, it seems, postulates in view of the admittedly enormous role which sexuality plays in the psyche. As for Freud’s therapy, it is at best but one of several possible methods, and perhaps does not always offer in practice what one expects from it in theory. Nevertheless, all these things are the merest trijles compared with the psychological principles whose discovery i s Freud’s greatest merit; and to them the critics p a y f a r too little attention.64 This disclaimer echoes the qualified endorsement which infiltrates practically all of Jung’s psychoanalytic material, and it goes far in explaining Jung’s incomplete appropriation of Freudian “concepts” in elucidating his “feeling-toned complex.” He utilizes the concept of “condensation” in explaining the associative disturbances of dementia praecox,66 and frankly confesses that Freud’s “theory” of repressed ideas, in showing how trivial ideas may be accompanied by an intense feeling-tone, “opens the way to understanding the inadequate feeling-tone in dementia praeCOX.')^^ The concept of “symptomatic action” Freud elaborated in T h e Psychopathology of Everyday Life is dubbed “a special instance of a complex constellation.”s7 Jung’s “complex displacement” is a rather obvious instance of Freudian “sublimation.”6* The disturbances induced by the “complex constellation” in everyday life “fi1uStrate” one leitmotif of The Interpretation of Dreams : repressed thoughts are prone to disguise themselves in similarities of either a verbal or visual sort.69 In a sample analysis of a case of paranoid dementia, Jung unravels psychotic neologisms through Freudian “free association” to a stimulus word, because “In this way the idea can be associated in all directions and its various connections This judicious appropriation of neutral dream mechanisms, however, is never equated with unqualified adherence to the sexual aetiology of the neuroses. The prevalence of feeling-toned complexes of an erotic-sexual nature may account for Freud’s aetiological emphasis on the sexual trauma, but “this does not mean that
54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60.
C. G. Jung, “The Psychology of Dementia,Praecox (1907),” CW, 3: 4. Italics added. Ibid., pp. 25-26. Ibid., p. 34. Ibid., p. 44. Ibid., pp. 49-50. Ibid., pp. 54-55. Ibid., p. 111.
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every hysteria can be traced back exclusively to sexuality. Any strong complex can call forth hysterical symptoms in those SO disposed; at least it seems Furthermore, whde Freud’s “hysterical” mechanisms suffice to explain the origin of hysteria, they do not explain why dementia praecox may arise instead of hysteria. Consequently, if Freud has ‘(strictly speaking, said all that is essential in his works on hysteria, obsessional neurosis, and dreams,” Jung’s elucidation of dementia praecox through a descriptive consideration of the more open-ended feeling-toned complex “goes a little beyond the scope of Freud’s views.”62 Jung once more approaches psychoanalysis as a matter of theoretical predisposition, not as a body of formulated dogma. His clear refusal to embrace the sexual aetiology of the neuroses-the one aspect of psychoanalytic dogma that was the testing ground for true adherents-was simply not conceptualized as substantive grounds for dissent. On 5 October 1906, he wrote Freud that he would shortly be sent “a little book” in which he [Jung] “approach(ed) dementia praecox and its psychology from your [Freud’s] ~ t a n d p 0 i n t . l ’The autobiography restates ~~ Jung’s apprehension of the work as a solid psychoanalytic contribution: it was only because of h e r die Psychologie der Dementia Praecox that Jung actually (‘came to know Freud.”64 I n his enthusiastic adoption of Jung as favored prot6g6, Freud seemed strangely indifferent to the qualified nature of Jung’s appropriation of the banner. Jung-cautious, open-minded, and uninterested in blind adherence to dogma-was perfectly willing to consider himself a psychoanalyst on his own clinical terms. Freud apparently made no attempt to discourage this beIief.85 IV Jung’s “evolutionary” broadening of the libido concept in Wandlungen und Symbole der Libido cannot be linked to a more self-conscious “break” with psychoanalytic dogma in Uber die Psychologie der Dementia Praecox. His principal concern in the latter work was simply to describe the feeling-toned complex with the mechanisms of dream-work elucidated in The Interpretation of Dreams, not to contest the ability of “sexual libido” to account for the schizophrenic’s withdrawal from reality. Furthermore, there is little evidence that Jung perceived himself as a Freudian renegade after Wandlungen und Symbole der Libido had been written. I n the Preface to the important series of lectures he delivered at Fordham University in September 1912, he dutifully protested that his (‘modest and temperate criticism” proceeded
61. Ibid., pp. 67 and 133. 62. Ibid., pp. 35, 37-38. 63. Jung to Freud, 5 October 1906, FJL, p. 5 . 64. Jung, Memories, Dreams, Reflections, p. 149. 65. Two key letters beautifully illustrate the working of this arrangement, Jung’s modest reply to Freud’s (missing) criticism of The Psychology of Dementia Praecox (Jung to Freud, 29 December 1906, FJL, pp. 13-14)and Freud’s subsequent, almost self-effacingdenial of his criticism (Freud to Jung, 1 January 1907,FJL, p. 1 ) Freud’s letter is particularly noteworthy because it typifies his pa7. tronizing assurance that Jung’s professional reservations need not be taken at doctrinal face value. In fact, Freud’s overdetermined suppositional writing embodies two distinct strains contributing t o this assurance: 1)the implicit belief that Jung’s caution is only a matter of transitory “resistance” to psychoanalytic insight, and 2) the added assumption that any outright “deviance” can be no more than a calculating social pose. This latter contention is particularly easy to understand, inasmuch as J u g did make repeated mention of the need to make psychoanalysis socially palatable to resistant outsiders, though he always distinguished this priority from his own intellectual and clinical reservations.
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from clinical work that ((in no wise approaches Freud’s quite extraordinary expperience and insight,” but still might help ‘(expressthe observed facts more suitably than Freud’s version of them.” Cloaking his reformulations with the mantle of William James’ pragmatic rule, he denied that his attitude . . . signifies a ‘split’ in the psychoanalytic movement. Such schisms can only exist in matters of faith. But psychoanalysis is concerned with knowledge and its ever-changing formulations.”66 I n the course of these lectures, Jung repeatedly insists on the empirical openmindedness which has characterized his “loyalty” to Freud from the beginning. Psychoanalysis, he begins, cannot be elaborated as ‘(awell-established, neatly rounded doctrine . . . from the practical and the theoretical side.” As his first demonstration of this tentative state of affairs, Jung refers not to his own clinical work with schizophrenics, but to the progress from the narrow “trauma theory” of neurosis to the clinical assumption of repression-a product of Freud’s own “brilliant empiri~isrn.”~~ Regrettable as it may be, psychoanalysts “have no presentable theory,” and contrary to the opinions of his critics, Freud himself (‘is anything rather than a theorist. He is an empiricist, as anyone must admit who is willing to go at all deeply into Freud’s writings and to try to see his cases as he sees them.’J68 Yet, this ostensible paucity of “theory” hardly prevents Jung from enthusiastically endorsing Freud’s operational constructs. Freud’s concept of libido is embraced as “that dynamic factor which we were seeking in order to explain the shifting of the psychological scenery,” and Jung alleges he will retain its “sexual meaning in the Freudian sense . . . as long as possible. . . .”69 With Freud, he agrees that the same libido is operative before and after puberty, and that while its biological urgency remains insignificant until puberty, those affective phenomena of childhood that fall “within the realm of the wider concept of sexuality” lack nothing of “adult” intensity.7o His “subversion” of the libido concept is again portrayed in innocuous evolutionary terminology which Freud himself has ostensibly sanctioned. If the “energic” manifestations of libido remain constant, the difference between immature and mature sexuality must really be conditioned by a change in the “localization” of libido.7i I n utilizing this insight to arrive a t a “presexual stage” of primal libido that functions to distill the real “energic” value out of the libido concept, however, Jung can once more refer to the Schreber case history as Freud’s own attempt to “come to terms” with the changed meaning of the original sexual definition of libido, and tfber die Psychologie der Dementia Praecox as the site of his own clinical moment of truth. The theory of dementia praecox, he submits, could not be based “on the theory of displacements of libido sexually defined,” for in dementia praecox the loss of the reality function is so extreme ‘(that it must involve the loss of other instinctual forces whose sexual character must be denied absolutely.” Consequently, reality cannot be a “function” of sex and the sexual libido cannot be the sole proving ground for reality-tested adaptati~n.’~
66. 67. 68. 69. 70.
C. G. Jung, “The Theory of Psychoanalysis (1912),” CW,4: 86.
Ibid., pp. 88-91-92; cf. 132-133.
Ibid., p. 142 and 167. Ibid., p. 111. Ibid., p. 115. 71. Ibid., p. 118. 72. Ibid., pp. 118-122.
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The theoretical use Jung makes with his “energic” libido model is in itself unexceptional, and hardly betokens the emotive “resistance” to psychoanalytic insight Freud would quickly detect. He rejects Freud’s separation of a hypothetical life instinct into an instinct for the preservation of the species (sexuality) and an instinct of self-preservation (the nutritive function), arguing that for a long time the life-process consists “only in the functions of nutrition and Yet, Jung’s divergence from Freud is not substantive, but rather hinges on the semantic ambiguity that Freud himself later found it easy to acknowledge. Jung too recognizes the pleasurable quality of the infantile act of sucking, but rejects Freud’s inference of a “sexual quality” to this pleasure on reasonable empirical grounds. Variants of the sucking impulse (e.g. sucking the thumb) may not directly serve the infant’s food intake, but they can hardly constitute “sexual pleasures” on that count alone. They more probably represent “nutritive pleasure” because “the form of pleasure and the place where it is obtained belong entirely to the sphere of nutrition. The hand which is used for sucking is being prepared in this way for the independent act of feeding in the future.” To be sure, “bad habits” associated with sucking may pass over into masturbation and retrospectively achieve a legitimate sexual character, This does not mean, however, that the original act of sucking posits a distinct sexual act along with its nutritive function: Its sexual character can be argued only by a petitio principii, for the facts show that the act of sucking is the first t o give pleasure, not the sexual function. Obtaining pleasure is by no means identical with sexuality. We deceive ourselves if we think that the two instincts exist side by side in the infant, for then we project into the psyche of the child an observation taken over from the psychology of adults.74
I this tempered denial of infantile sexuality represented a “break” with the f analytic tradition, it was one destined to gain more than a modicum of credibility. Freud’s 1914 recognition of the developmental primacy of “anaclitic” objectchoice-the initial dependency of the sexual instinct on the ego instincts providing nutritional gratiiication-amounts to the same operational conclusion.7~ I n his own series of introductory lectures delivered five years later, Freud again expressed a remarkably Jungian empirical outlook. His twenty-first lecture on the “Development of the Libido and the Sexual Organization” exhibited that altogether commendable open-mindedness which Jung sought t o discover in him all along. “At the moment,” he confessed, “we are not in possession of any generally recognized criterion of the sexual nature of a process, apart, once again, from a connection with the reproductive function which we must reject as being too narro~-minded.”7~ He proceeded to label the infant’s “originally indifferent bodily pleasure” sexual only because adult sexuality itself could not be defined as more than “organ pleasure”-usually, but not invariably, focusing on one pair of organs. Freud viewed the theoretical possibility of a variant of organ pleasure which was not “sexual” as abstruse and clinically unessential: “I know too little about organ pleasure and its determinants.” This much, however, he readily confessed :
73. 74. 75. 76.
Ibid., p. 105. Ibid., p. 107. Freud, “On Narcissism: An Introduction,” SE, 14: 87. Sigmund Freud, “Introductory Lectures on Psycho-Analysis (Part 3) (1917),” SE, 16: 320.
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. . . we call the dubious and indefinable pleasurable activities of earliest childhood sexual because, in the course of analysis, we arrive at them from the symptoms after passing through indisputably sexual material. They need not necessarily themselves be sexual on that account-agreed !”
Jung’s subsequent modification of the aetiology of neurosis in the 1912 Fordham lectures is no more substantive than his relatively inconsequential squabbling over the existence of infantile sexuality. When he claims that the cause of pathogenic conflict lies not in childhood experience but ((in the present moment,” he means only to suggest that a contemporary obstacle has t o be encountered before the libido can be jolted onto that regressive tract that might reactivate childhood fantasie~.’~Freud said essentially the same thing in a paper written the same year.7e As a therapist, Jung’s strategy for cure remains identical to Freud’s: make the regressive libido ‘(serviceable” again by freeing the patient from the burden of “mistaken infantile fantasies” through enlightenment. Only when the libido has seized hold of the actualities of life and is utilized to solve “necessary tasks” does the job of analysis end.8o Always, Jung the empiricist stands steadfastly by the results of his association experiments: if his test results point t o the unconscious ‘(complexes”inducing reaction disturbances, it is the same tests that point t o the “present” site of neurotic conflict.81
Investigation of the relevant Jungian texts circumscribes with still greater clarity the question this inquiry first sought to pose: in what sense can Jung be held accountable for a self-willed “break” with his senior colleague? Jung hardly considered himself a derelict Freudian during this period, and in terms of his cautious theoretical development, there is little reason why he should have felt obliged to do so. He had openly articulated the empirical ground rules governing his loyalty to Freudian doctrine as early as 1906, and in his subsequent work he really produced nothing that betrayed them. I n his initial characterization of the sexual aetiology of the neuroses as a “delicate theoretical question,” Jung certainly gave testimony to a very real difference between himself and Freud, but it was an honest difference that characterized the entire duration of his collaboration and which Freud himself cheerfully accepted for some six years. The longstanding assumption that the import of Wandlungen und Symbole der Libido was in itself suflicient to reorient Freud to the ((deviant” implications of Jung’s mythological research is simply not sustained by a close examination of the relevant correspondence of this period. As early as June 1910, we noted, Freud had reacted to a draft version of the first part of this work in a wholly unexceptional way, making minor textual corrections, isolating one “untenable point,” but concluding that (‘everything essential” in the essay was right. This preliminary approval established a positive rapport which extended through the summer of
77. Ibid., p. 324.
78. Jung, “The Theory of Psychoanalysis,” CW, 4: 162-166, 168, 170; also C. G. Jung, “Psychoanalysis and Neurosis (1913),” CW, 4: 246-251. 79. See Sigmund Freud, “Types of Onset of Neurosis (1912),” SE, 12: 231-238. 80. Jung,“The Theory of Psychoanalysis,” CW, 4: 188-189, 224. 81. Ibid., pp. 148-150, 181.
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1912.82 It was only when Jung wrote in the fall of 1911 of his proposal t o “supplement” the libido concept articulated in the Three Essays on the Theory of Sexuality with a “genetic factor” that would make it applicable t o dementia praecox that Freud even broached the possibility of a misunder~tanding.~~ after Jung Yet, restated at greater length his clinical inability t o reduce the loss of the reality function in dementia praecox to the repression of a libido that reduced to sexual hunger,S4 Freud promptly reasserted an empirical open-mindedness that probably helped confirm Jung’s own certainty about the suitability of his revisions within psychoanalytic theory: I am all in favour of your attacking the libido question and I myself am expecting much light from your efforts. Often, it seems, I can go for a long while without feeling the need t o clarify an obscure point, and then one day I am compelled t o by the pressure of facts or by the influence of someone else’s ideas.85
Four months later, Freud restated this approval in a way which explicitly conceded the possibility of an “independent” disciple whose revisionist formulations could be naturally subsumed within a flexible, empirical, psychoanalytic fold : I am eagerly looking forward t o your second libido paper with its new concept of the libido, because I imagine that the “Declaration of Independence” you announced a while ago is expressed in it and may indeed have related to nothing else. You will see that I am quite capable of listening and accepting, or of waiting until an idea becomes clearer to me.86 When the input of this correspondence is evaluated alongside Jung’s own perception of his “loyalty” to Freud, the net effect is to recast the coordinates circumscribing the Jung-Freud “split” in a new and prospectively more manageable way: the real issue to be examined is not why Jung “broke” with Freud, but why Freud felt impelled after seven years to elevate relatively long-term differences with Jung to the status of major obstacles that would preclude any collabs oration a t all. This i an extremely complex question which is well beyond the scope of this essay, though the recent publication of the complete Freud-Jung correspondence does make available a crucial tool for investigating the problem. Before the burden of Jung’s “break” can be adequately refracted in the context of Freud’s personal psychology, however, it will be necessary to clarify with new precision the issues involved in the initial “adoption” of Jung. I n the remainder of this essay, I simply want to highlight one such issue which is explicitly documented in Freud’s correspondence with other colleagues, but which is in fact implicit in the textual analysis of Jung’s own psychoanalytic writings. This concerns the paradoxical quality of Jung’s long-term collaboration with the Viennese psychoanalytic circle. While it is possible to accept Jung’s initial distinction between the “sexual theory” and the “psychological theory” as a matter of outright intellectual honesty, it is more difficult t o explain Freud’s total willing82. For key demonstrations of this rapport, see Freud to Jung, 1 September 1911, FJL, p. 441 and Freud to Jung, 12 November 1911, FJL, p. 459. 83. Freud to Jung, 30 November 1911, FJL, p. 469. 84. Jung to Freud, 11 December 1911, FJL, p. 471. 85. Freud to Jung, 17 December 1911, FJL, p. 472. 86. Freud to Jung, 21 April 1912, FJL, p. 500; Cf. Freud to Jung, 13 June 1912, FJL, p. 510.
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new to embrace Jung on his own delimited terms. As both a professional and social movement, psychoanalysis was squarely predicated upon the developmental vicissitudes and repressed offshoots of the sexual instinct. This simple truth, the legacy of Freud’s split with Breuer over the unquestioned supremacy of “defensive” hysterias, rapidly became the infallible gauge through which the psychoanalyst’s therapeutic integrity and his critic’s post-Oedipal maturity could be measured. As a therapy for the neuroses, its claim to distinction and its revolutionary legacy revolved principally on the new-found motive power of the sexual instinct, “the most important and only constant source of energy of the neurosis.8’ Moreover, apart from the aetiological reductionism by which psychoanalysis became clinically distinctive, the social reaction to its exclusive reliance on sexual aetiology went far in determining the way the psychoanalytic movement could be conceptualized by both followers and critics. By contending that the sexual factor was operative in a11 neuroses, psychoanalysis unquestionably threatened a Viennese haute bourgeoisie saturated with the moralistic-scientific culture of law.88 Subsequently, the movement’s social credibility had to be sought within the coordinates imposed by an assaulting social value system. Concurrently with a clinical reductionism which dictated how psychoanalysis could cure went a culturally induced selectivity which determined what psychoanalysis could mean: the sexual question became the only significant institutional question.89 These considerations make the initial gulf between Jung and Freud much greater than Jung ever believed it to be. Behind Jung’s free-floating conceptualization of psychoanalysis, however, lies a second more relevant question : what prevented Freud from straightening Jung out on the centrality of the “sexual question” from the very beginning of their association? Why did he name as his heir apparent a disciple whose ruthless empiricism undercut the social and clinical crusade that was already well under way? To a degree, these questions can be approached by resorting to the wishfulfilling prophecy that Jung’s theoretical timidity would yield to the libidinal input of additional clinical experience. This hope is optimistically broached in Freud’s second letter to Jung of 7 October 1906 and by 6 December of that year Freud was willing to construe Jung’s substantive reservations as a veritable promise “to trust me for the present in matters where your experience does not enable you to make up your own mind. . . From this confident, wish-fulfilling inception, Freud proceeded to designate Jung his crown prince successor with an alacrity and
87. Sigmund Freud, “Three Essays on the Theory of Sexuality (1905),” SE, 7: 163. 88. See Carl E. Schorske, “Politics and the Psyche in fin de sihcle Vienna: Schnitzler and Hofmannsthd,” American Historical Review 66 (1961): 933 and Jones, Life and Work of Sigmund Freud, 2: 108-109. 89. I explore the relationship between the development of instinct theory and the institutional priorities of the psychoanalytic movement more deeply in my History of Aggression in Freud, unpublished Senior Thesis, Princeton University, 1973, pp. 141-151. The interdependence between the medical and social conceptualization of psychoanalysis and the reception of Freud’s sexual theories has been documented for the case of America by John C. Burnham, Psychoamlyais and American Medicine, 1894-1918: Medicine, Science, and CuUure, Psychological Issues Monograph 20 (New York: International Universities Press, 1967), pp. 108 ff. and, more fully, by Nathan Hale, Freud and the Americans: The Beginnings of Psychoanalysis in t United States, 1876-1917 (New York: h Oxford University Press, 1971), especially pp. 189-194, 267-273, and 291-307. 90. Freud to Jung, 7 October 1906, FJL, p. 5 ; also Freud to Jung, 6 December 1906, FJL, p. 13 and Freud to Jung, 19 A p d 1908, F J L , p. 140.
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finality that cannot be objectively explained on the basis of Jung’s published “defences” of psychoanalysis and his own circumscribed research interests. For Freud, it apparently sufficed that Jung should never abandon any portion of the theory essential t o Jung. After Jung’s first brief visit to Vienna in early March 1907, Freud felt able t o confide t o his protege the special fate that awaited him: Your visit was most delightful and gratifying: I should like to repeat in writing various things that I confided t o you by word of mouth, in particular, that you have inspired me with confidence for the future, that I now realize that I am as replaceable as everyone else and that I could hope for no one better than yourself, as I have come to know you, t o continue and complete my work. I am sure you will not abandon the work, you have gone into it too deeply and seen for yourself how exciting, how far-reaching, and how beautiful our subject is.91 A mere three months later, Freud bemoaned that Jung’s letters had become a “necessity” for him, and in mid-August reported that his personality had been “impoverished” by a temporary interruption in their corresponden~e.~~ It was precisely because Freud’s wishful adoption was prematurely affected a t such an early stage in their relationship that Jung’s empirical reservations could for a time recede into the background, intellectually acknowledged by Freud but emotively dissociated from his affective sense of Jung’s “chosen-ness.” As early as 31 March 1907, shortly after the first brief visit to Vienna, Jung admitted to Freud outright his great difficulty with the “broadened conception of sexuality,’’ and proposed that for purposes of clarity and potential support, the sexual terminology should be reserved only for the most extreme forms of “libido,” while “a less offensive collective term should be established for all the libidinal manifestations.”gS Freud’s reply, while firm, acknowledged the tactical plausibility of Jung’s suggestion without discrediting or even questioning the private motives that underlie it.94 I n mid-August of that same year, Jung interrogated Freud on the aetiological singularity of the sexual drive in a way which could easily have cleared up disparate perceptions, frankly asking whether or not hysterical symptoms existed which “though co-determined by the sexual complex, are predominantly conditioned by a sublimation or by a non-sexual complex . . .’’95 Freud proceeded to feed Jung’s difficulty with the “sexual question” with an answer that was benign in tone and noncommittal in content: For the present I do not believe that anyone is justified in saying that sexuality is the mother of all feelings. Along with the poet, we know of two instinctual
91. Freud t o Jung, 7 April 1907, FJL,p. 27. 92. Freud to Jung, 10 July 1907, FJL,p. 75 and Freud t o Jung, 18 August 1907, FJL,p. 76. 93. Jung to Freud, 31 March 1907, FJL,p. 25. 94. Freud to Jung, 7 April 1907, FJL, 28: “I appreciate your motives in trying to sweeten the p. sour apple, but I do not think you will be successful. Even if we call the ucs. “psychoid,” it will still be the ucs., and even if we do not call the driving force in the broadened conception of sexuality “libido,” it will still be libido, and in every inference we draw from i t we shall come back to the very We are being asked thing from which we were trying to divert attention with our nomenclature. . neither more nor less than to abjure our belief in the sexual drive. The only answer is to profess i t openly.” Jung’s next letter to Freud did not indicate any perception of a “rebuff”; Jung apparently did not even believe Freud w s dissuading him from this terminological enterprise: “Of course YOU a are right about ‘libido,’ but my faith in the efficacy of sweeteners is deep-rooted -for the present” p. p. (Jung to Freud, 11 April 1907, FJL, 32). Cf. also Jung t o Freud, 19 August 1907, FJL, 78. 95. Jung to Freud, 19 August 1907, FJL,p. 79.
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sources. . . . I regard (for the present) the role of sexual complexes in hysteria merely as a theoretical necessity and do not infer it from their frequency and intensity. Proof, I believe, is not yet possible. . . . I know that we somewhere encounter the conflict between ego-cathexis and object-cathexis, but without direct (clinical) observation I cannot even spe~ulate.~6 Jung’s reply to this letter capped an interchange that could only serve to reinforce the viability of his own peculiar variant of “loyalty” to the movement: “I am very grateful t o you for formulating your view of the role of sexuality; it is much what I e~pected.”~’ the course of 1908, Freud bypassed at least two equally conIn spicuous opportunities for setting Jung straight.98 Such candid reservations could easily have undermined Jung’s singular status with Freud. They did not. From the summer of 1907 until well after the appearance of Part I of Wandlungen und Symbole der Libido in the fall of 1911, Freud was more than willing to utilize Jung as a supportive, sympathetic ally in the fitful and often exasperating propagation of psychoanalysis. Indeed, not only were Jung’s empirical qualms destined to be swallowed up by this mutual undertaking, but the very tactical compromises Freud espoused in the opportunistic quest to win new adherents could only have minimized the import of these qualms in Jung’s own mind. Thus, by repeatedly urging upon Jung the necessity for defining adherence to psychoanalysis loosely enough to attract. ambivalent personalities who were prominent in the main current of institutional psychiatry, Freud in reality lent credence t o Jung’s own subjective certainty that his psychoanalysis was the empirical equivalent of Freud’s, that it in fact abandoned no portion of the theory essential t o either of them. In this regard, the case of Bleuler is perhaps the most instructive. One of the great pioneers of psychiatry, revising the very concept of dementia praecox and making major contributions to the understanding of autism and ambivalence, Jung’s chief on the Burgholdi staff may have been receptive to psychoanalysis as early as 1901, and Jung pronounced him “completely converted” t o the cause in his first letter to Freud in the fall of 1906. By the spring of 1907, however, Jung wrote Freud that Bleuler demonstrated resistances “more vigorous than ever,” “insuperable unconscious resistances to analyzing his own dreams and associations,” and “emotional inhibitions” to grasping the libido c0ncept.9~ By the fall of 1910, Freud’s estimation of Bleuler had plummeted in accord with Jung’s recurring criticisms, but he remained intent on using all his personal influence to win Bleuler’s
96. Freud t o Jung, 27 August 1907, FJL, p. 80. 97. Jung to Freud, 29 August 1907, FJL, p. 81. 98. I n March, Jung wrote Freud of his “concurrence” with the pronounceiyent of the “young Binswanger” that while certain cases of hysteria turned out as Freud predicted, . . . we must assume that t,here are various other forms of hysteria for which different formulas will have to be found” (Jung t o Freud, 3 March 1908, FJL, p. 127). Freud acknowledged the reference t o Binswanger without mentioning or disputing the “pronouncement” (Freud to Jung, 5 March 1908, FJL, pp. 131-132). I n August, Jung, writing Freud of Stekel’s new book Conditions of Nervous Anziety, regretted the author’s “frequent neglect of the conflict, which s e e m t o me far more important than the sexual troubles, these, as we know, can be endured for years so long as no conflict is piled on top of them. Some cases even show quite clearly that the symptoms arise not from sexual defects but from the conflict” (Jung to Freud, 11 August 1908, FJL, p. 166). Freud subsequently subscribed “in every detail t o (Jung’s) criticism of Stekel’s book,” though he thought the criticism on the whole too harsh. No mention was made of the important distinction Jung’s criticism incorporated (Freud t o Jung, 13 August 1908, FJL, pp. 168-169). 99. Jung to Freud, 5 October 1906, FJL,p. 5 and Jung t o Freud, 31 March 1907, FJL,p. 25.
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allegiance, however nominal, to psychoanalysis. Commenting on his own frustrating correspondence with Bleuler, Freud informed Jung that the loss of his chief “ . . . would be regrettable and would widen the gulf between us and the others. Consequently it is worth a sacrifice to hold him, of what I don’t know yet, . . . l l l o o A week later, Jung informed Freud of Bleuler’s failure to defend psychoanalysis against the attacks of Oppenheim a t the October meeting of German neurologists in Berlin. Freud quickly decided to issue Bleuler a “kind of ultimatum.” He confessed to Jung that the correspondence with Bleuler had up t o that point been “exhausting,” for while agreeing with Jung’s low estimation of him on the one hand, . . . on the other considerations of a selfish and sentimental nature, with which you are acquainted, have inclined me t o moderation and, for instance, deterred me from asking him the question which you suggest and which I would very much have liked to ask, the famous question: Why didn’t you say so aloud? (i.e., in Berlin).lol When subsequent “softening up” by Jung revealed that Bleuler might join the Zurich Psychoanalytic Society “if we are prepared to pay a very high price” and produced a favorable letter from Bleuler t o Freud, the latter “rejoiced” at the prospect of holding him. I n November, 1911, however, Jung was still complaining to Freud of the harmful effects of Bleuler’s “stubborn opposition” and failure to achieve reconciliation with psychoanalysis. By the end of the month, Freud informed Jung that with Bleuler’s resignation from the Zurich Society, the ‘‘ ‘last trouser-button of (his) patience had snapped.’ ” Even admission of this outright failure to solicit Bleuler’s compromising good graces could not dampen Freud’s willingness t o concede the importance of Bleuler’s support, however. Five months later, he informed Jung t o his “regret” that Bleuler’s withdrawal from the Zurich group “seems to have done the group more harm than I could foresee,” and added he “would greatly welcome the news that he had rejoined.””J2 Such repentant misgivings were voiced long after Bleuler had articulated an empirical viewpoint that drastically qualified the nature of any allegiance he might give psychoanalysis. I n explaining to Freud his resignation from the Zurich Society and hesitancy to join the International Psychoanalytic Association in the fall of 1910, he had made explicit his personal rejection of any psychoanalytic Weltanschauungwhose advancement required a sacrifice of personality, his scientific antipathy to the “closed door” policies of institutional psychoanalysis, and his disavowal of any Psychoanalytic Association that must serve as the carrier of a “movement” and guard and proselytize the “truth.llloa
100. Freud to Jung, 23 October 1910, FJL, pp. 360-361. 101. Freud t o Jung, 31 October 1910, FJL, p. 365. 102. Jung to Freud, 13 November 1910, FJL, p. 371; Freud to Jung, 25 November 1910, FJL, p. 372; Jung to Freud, 14 November 1911, FJL, p. 461; Jung to Freud, 24 November 1911, FJL, 466-467; Freud to Jung, 30 November 1911, FJL, p. 468; Freud to Jung, 21 April 1912, FJL, PP. 499-500. 103. Frane Alexander and Sheldon T. Selesnick, “Freud-Bleuler Correspondence,” Archives of General Psychiatry 12 (1965)1-9. Ludwig Binswanger, one of Freud’s more accommodating“mediating links” between psychoanalysis and academic psychiatry also “sounded out” Bleuler at the request of the Zurich Society, and testified t o the integrity which underlay his reservations: “I thought that Bleuler’s refusal to join ww a protest only against the union of science and this kind of scientific conventicles.” See Ludwig Binswanger, Sigmund Freud: Reminiscences of a Friendship, trans. N. Guterman (New York and London: Grune and Stratton, 1957), pp. 24-26.
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Ironically, it was Jung who obtained firsthand exposure to Bleuler’s scientific distance from psychoanalysis and who repeatedly felt summoned to deflate Freud’s unrealistic prophecy that he might still be won. In the course of this task, it was Jung the disciple who was repeatedly subjected to a “Freudian” proselytizing pragmatism that minimized theoretical uncertainty to the point of virtual insignificance. Indeed, when it was a question of garnering a viable connecting link to the academic community, Freud was more than willing to become an open-minded empiricist with a vengeance. To Bleuler he protested that the International Association was not “exclusive” and even offered him the opportunity t o propose changes that would make it acceptable to him. The “doctrinal” implications of this compromising attempt to accommodate a recalcitrant empiricist could hardly have been lost on Jung. This opportunistic depreciation of theoretical recalcitrance on behalf of necessary proselytizing activity helps explain the possibility of Jung’s own extended discipleship, but it does not explain the inevitability of his initial adoption by Freud. I Freud’s own “character armor” (Reich) preserved the explicit belief that inf creased clinical experience and reflection would move Jung in the direction of orthodoxy, it remains necessary to isolate the reason why Jung alone seems to have evoked such defensive maneuvering in the first place. Previously published Freud correspondence seems to point in a promising interpretive direction. We know, for example, that Karl Abraham, the most orthodox of Freud’s disciples, expressed continual qualms over Jung’s silence on the “sexual theory,” and that Freud repeatedly refused to take his pupil’s reservations to heart. I n a letter of 3 May 1908, Freud tried to pacify an offended Abraham whose paper for the upcoming Salzburg Congress had generated a “slight conflict” with Jung. While sympathizing with Abraham, Freud bluntly stated his unwillingness t o let “serious dissensions” arise between his two prot6g6s: Please be tolerant and do not forget that it is easier for you than it is for Jung to follow my ideas, for in the first place you are completely independent, and then you are closer to my intellectual constitution because of racial kinship, while he as a Christian and a pastor’s son finds his way to me only against great inner resistance. His association with us is the more valuable for that. I nearly said that it was only by his appearance on the scene that psychoanalysis escaped the danger of becoming a Jewish national affair.’” Freud here candidly owned up t o the subjective, personal reasons impelling him to accept Jung’s loyalty on Jung’s own terms. As the only important Gentile member of the original psychoanalytic group, Jung was always destined t o be the crucial bridge to a hostile Gentile world. Three months later, in anticipation of his first visit to Zurich-Burgholzli, Freud was willing to broach this mission to Jung himself. “My selfish purpose, which I frankly confess,” he wrote, “is to persuade you to continue and complete my work by applying to psychoses what I have begun with neuroses. With your strong and independent character, with your Germanic blood which enables you to command the sympathies of the public more readily than I, you seem better fitted than anyone else I know to carry
104. Freud t o Abraham, 3 May 1908, in A Psycho-Amlytie Dialogue: The Letters of Sigmund Freud and Karl Abraham 1907-1986 (hereafter PAL), ed. H. C. Abraham and E. L. Freud, trans. B. M m h and H. C. Abraham (dew York: Baslc Books, 1965), p. 34.
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out this mission.”105 This perception not only helps explain Freud’s prolonged defense of Jung’s theoretical divergence, but underlies his subsequent insistence that Jung assume the permanent presidency of the International Psychoanalytic Association at the Second Congress a t Nuremberg in 1910. Fritz Wittels, Freud’s earliest biographer, recalls the protest meeting this insistence generated among the Viennese analysts and the counter-argument Freud presented to his angry colleagues a t the time : “Most of you are Jews, and therefore you are incompetent to win friends for the new teaching. Jews must be content with the modest role of preparing the ground. It is absolutely essential that I should form ties in the world of general science. I am getting on in years, and am weary of being perpetually attacked. We are all in danger.” Seizing his coat by the lapels, he said, “They won’t even leave me a coat to my back. The Swiss will save us-will save me, and all of you as we11.”lo6 I n a letter of 23 July 1908, Freud hinted to Abraham that Jung had t o be salvaged for the movement a t any cost. Jung’s personal skepticism was considered less important than the social benefits of his institutional affiliation. I n reply to Abraham’s grave doubts, Freud was willing to “surrender” Bleuler, but planned to go to Zurich to patch things up with Jung.lo7 When this meeting appeared to ensure Jung’s dedication to the movement, Freud was frankly jubilant,loS and for the next five years continued to give Jung’s empirical skepticism the benefit of the doubt whenever codict arose. On 26 December 1908, he defended Jung’s refusal to publish Abraham’s reviews in the Jahrbuch in strident terms: “Jung made a decision that is obviously within his rights as editor and I believe that anyone who undertakes office and responsibility is entitled to a certain amount of elbow room.” On 27 April 1909, he defended Jung’s paper on “The Significance of the Father in the Destiny of the Individual,” claiming his student had “taken a part of the whole, but he has done SO very effectively.” Over a year later, when Abraham communicated an improved prognosis on the possibility of overcoming “Jung’s resistance,” Freud was particularly gratified : “I am glad your prognosis in the matter of Jung is good, I know you are not exactly an optimist about him.”lOg It was not until 27 March 1913, that Freud finally appeared ready t o accept Jung’s work a t its theoretical and clinical face value, and hence sacrifice any institutional assets he might represent.”O
105. Freud to Jung, 13 August 1908, F J L , p. 168. 106. Fritz Wittels, Sigmund Freud: His Personality, His Teaching, and His School, trans. Eden m d Cedar Paul (New York: Dodd, Mead, 1924), p. 140. Cf. David Bakan, Sigmund Freud and the Jewish Mystical Tradition (Princeton: Van NoFtrand, 19581, p 55 65, 122-123. Wittels’ account of this scene parallels the reminiscences of Wdhelm Stekel, W ~ O cliimed responsibility for organizing the protest meeting, and has been conceded basic accuracy even by Ernest Jones. See Wilhelm Stekel, Autobiography (New York: Liveright, 1950), PP. 128-129 and Ernest Jones, Free Associations: Memories of a Psycho-Analyst (London: Hogarth, 1959), pp. 215-216. 107. Freud t o Abraham, 23 July 1908, F A L , pp. 46-47. 108. Freud t o Abraham, 29 September 1908, F A L , p. 51. 109. Freud to Abraham, 26 December 1908, F A L , p. 62; Freud to Abraham, 27 April 1909, F A L , p. 78; Freud to Abraham, 11 August 1912, P A L , p. 122. 110. Freud to Abraham, 27 March 1913, F A L , p. 137; “Jung is in America, but only for five wee&, that is he will soon be back. I n any case he is doing more for himself than for psycho-analysis. I have greatly retreated from him, and have no more friendly thoughts for him. His bad theories do not compensate me for his disagreeable character. H e is following in Adler’s wake, without being consistent as that pernicious creature.”
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The general tenor of this correspondence lends considerable credence to the innocent protestations of “loyalty” that infiltrate all of Jung’s major “deviant” works. Freud, it seems, obsessed with the institutional fate of his struggling brainchild, consciously deceived Jung in allowing him to believe his conditional appropriation of dream mechanics and energetics constituted full fledged loyalty to the movement. Given Jung’s distorted working assumptions about the limited nature of psychoanalysis, he never had reason to doubt that his “empirical” modifications followed a sensible evolutionary logic and would be ultimately endorsed by Freud himself. Jung never “broke” with Freud. Furthermore, his limited conception of psychoanalysis and his deferent tone to Freud belie the retrospective clarity with which Jung himself foresaw the fatal course his Freudian collaboration would take. I n reality, he continued even after the rupture to be a loyal disciple of Freud on the modest grounds in which he conceived of discipleship.”’ The entire episode, therefore, is hardly indicative of an evolving breech that eventually reached crisis proportions. It is rather a long and ominous testimony to Freud’s emotional investment in the institutionalized movement his work had created, an investment so enormous that it might permit him t o appropriate as loyal adherents honest clinicians whose “empirical” shortcomings left them with something less than the faith.
111. Cf. Roland Cahen, “Vingt Ans Apres,” in Contact with Juw: Essays on the Influenee of his Work and Personality, pp. 6-7.