Journal of Analytical Psychology 1992, 37, 29-47 THE THERAPIST’S INTERVENTIONS IN JUNGIAN ANALYSIS* JEF DEHING, Brussels Or muovi, ¢ con la tua parola ornata, © con cid ch’ha mestieri al suo campare, Vaiuta si ch'io ne sia consolata. La Divina commedia, Proemio Inf. Il vv. 67-9 Haste then, and with your gracious speech and all that may be needful for his rescue, help him, thus comforting me. With these words Beatrice urges Virgil to assist Dante who is lost in a dark wood ‘in the middle of his journey of life’: he can no longer give meaning to his existence, and is preparing to descend to the underworld—a journey full of perils, uncertainties, doubts, horror, and dread. Virgil, his guide, agrees to escort him and give support whenever his step falters or his heart fails. This silent presence, which is none the less vital and attentive, reassures by its very quietness which guarantees the time and space necessary for things to occur, for the attribution of meaning to violent and often incomprehensible affects and their gradual integration into consciousness. Virgil stands by, ready to contain Dante’s emotions when they become too power- full, to support him in his arms when his anguish becomes unbearable. He does not represent an idealized master possessing unlimited knowledge. On the contrary, he is one of ‘those who are in suspense’, of those who experience a situation of permanent tension. He agrees to accompany Dante because he loves him; he has the courage to face danger because he believes in a possible meaning. But he can escort him only as far as the gates of Heaven; there, he will have to leave. This important limit is as difficult to accept as it is necessary. * This paper is the product of a seminar on clinical issues in analytical practice. Michéle Dupont, Walter Duytschaever, Nicole Gillet, Dominique Lesuisse, Marc Leysen, Anne Orts, Carla Pecci, Roland Schols, Jean-Marie Spriet, Jan Tilley, and Giuliana van det Schans played an active part in this workshop. We would like to dedicate this article to the memory of Lucie Jadot who died in December 1989 (0021~8774/92/3701/020/83.00!1 © 1992 The Society of Analytical Psychology30 J. Dehing This metaphor of the analytical journey contains several references to the analyst’s functions: setting, containment, transitional area, and interpretation. This paper seeks to examine how, against the back- ground of his silent presence, the therapist ‘intervenes’ in sessions. Strangely enough, analysts are, as a rule, rather reticent, not to say reluctant, when asked to provide a precise record of their inter- ventions during a session. They prefer to present a well-constructed and coherent case history, in which the dynamics of the cure are already metabolized and clearly formulated. The analyst's inter- ventions tend to be swamped in this context, subsumed in an alleg- edly meaningful network, and justified by therapeutic requirements. It. is another matter to consider our interventions as such, unadorned, in vive, and to question their meaning before (what prompted us to intervene in that way?) and after (what was our intention, and what was the effect?—the patient’s reaction being a crucial factor, of course). Without going to extremes, it might be interesting to ask this question even with regard to our slightest ‘hm’; doing so can be as threatening as a thorough supervision. This text is addressed to practising analysts, for whom it is intended to provide a reference grid. Whilst the reader may not agree with all the following observations, it is hoped they will help him both to clarify and call into question his own position. This questioning clearly concerns the ideology which sustains the analytical endeavour. Therefore: —The document will start with a brief survey of the alleged purpose of intervention in various analytical schools. —Certain lines of force, which provide a framework for intervention, will then be indicated. —The main part of the paper is a critical survey of the possible forms of intervention. —Finally, an attempt will be made to determine the specific nature of intervention in Jungian analysis. INTERVENTION IN CERTAIN ANALYTICAL ‘SCHOOLS‘ ‘Orthodox’ Freudian analysts despise intervention: Jean Cournut (1983) describes it ‘as illegitimate, a virtual admission of inadequacy’. In his view, ‘the term intervention should be deleted from the analytical vocabulary’. He draws a distinction between it and interpretation, construction, hypothesis, and questioning. Only interpretation ‘can serve to remove repression and, at the very least, to revive associative and mnestic activity and phantasmatic elaboration’. While Cournut’sThe therapist’s interventions in Jungian analysis 31 rejection of intervention seems excessive, it must be acknowledged that he is undoubtedly correct in giving the following warning: ‘Any- thing the analyst says is pregnant, significant, loaded, inductive. It must never be underestimated and regarded as harmless, innocent or trivial.’ It is precisely this that prompts us to inquire into the signifi- cance of our interventions. As far as Lacanian structuralism is concerned, ‘the analyst's interpre- tation, or rather his interventions, are not intended to elucidate mean- ing but to bring about a structural transformation in the subject’ (De Neuter, 1987). Lacan sees meaning as a trap, an illusion protecting us from the experience of radical lack (‘manque’). The purpose of treatment is not simply ‘the removal of repression’ (which does not always produce a structural change) but also, and primarily, ‘the renunciation of meaning’ For the Lacanian analyst, it is more impor- tant to achieve ‘a modification of the analysand’s speech, a structural transformation, and to enable him to pass by the rock of castration so well identified by Freud’. ‘Since the aim of treatment could no longer be defined solely in terms of the undoing of repression, the analyst’s role could likewise no longer be limited to interpretation in the traditional sense. Lacan initially stressed the value of such tech- niques as scansion and punctuation for the release of repression. Scan- sion highlights a signifier in the subject’s discourse, thereby removing it from its context. A change in punctuation, or even the displacement of a punctuation mark, can radically alter the meaning of a sentence. The application of a caesura in a word or sentence or the interruption of a session can have a “non-sense” effect in keeping with the aims of treatment, namely the renunciation of meaning and the achieve~ ment of structural transformation.’ This is what the Lacanian analyst is seeking to bring about; his aim is not to reveal a repetition in the transference, nor to ‘understand’ a dream, nor to overcome a resistance, ‘Kleinian’ analysts see resistance to the analytical process as essen- tially due to anxiety (see Begoin and Begoin 1982), which the ana- lyst’s intervention should relieve. Since anxiety is experienced in the analytical situation, the analysis of resistances naturally gives rise to analysis of the transference. Unfortunately, C. G. Jung is rarely explicit with regard to his analytical practice; he always refused to lay down technical rules and little is known of his actual psychotherapeutic interventions. In an article published in 1929 (‘Problems of modern psychotherapy’), he distinguishes ‘four stages of psychotherapeutic action’ 1. ‘Confession’, which he compares to the ‘cathartic’ method. For Jung, however, unconscious ‘secrets’ are not necessarily the result32 J. Dehing en de: of repression. “The unconscious, too, has its own specific contents which push up from unknown depths and gradually reach con- sciousness.’ Consequently, the shadow cannot be equated with the personal unconscious described by Freud. Jung stresses the importance of fantasy which is ‘simply spontaneous psychic activity’. ‘Elucidation’ and analysis of the transference, which Jung sees as a somewhat troublesome and undesirable consequence of con- fession. This can be described as the Freudian stage of psycho- therapy, adopted by Jung with certain reservations. ‘Social education’, or the Adlerian stage of action. For Adler, ‘social adaptation and normalization are desirable goals’, they ‘are absol- utely necessary, the consummation of human life’. While such a pedagogical attitude may seem incompatible with the analytical position, it must be remembered that, at any time, we are in danger of e-ducating our analysand—that is literally leading him astray. Jung’s etymological interpretation, based on the German verb er-ziehen, is more optimistic: “The patient must be drawn out of himself, which is the true meaning of “education”.’ Anyhow, that is perhaps the most important reason for this questioning of our interventions: when does inter-vention become mis-leading? On the other hand it must be stressed that it is not sufficient to ‘let things happen’ and to ‘consider carefully’, since such an approach could easily result in ‘interminable’ analysis; ‘confron- tation’ must also play a part in the analytical process; maybe a confrontational attitude can be regarded as an acceptable peda- gogical procedure. ‘Transformation’: according to Jung ‘there are just as many people who become neurotic because they are merely normal as there are people who are neurotic because they cannot become normal’. For the former ‘the moral compulsion to be nothing but normal signifies the bed of Procrustes—deadly and insupportable bore- dom, a hell of sterility and hopelessness’. This plea in favour of individuation corrects Jung’s pedagogical attitude (or should the stress on education be seen as compensation for a too excessive prevalence of the Self?). Curiously, it is at this fourth stage of therapeutic action that Jung locates the significance of the countertransference: this stage ‘requires the counter-application to the doctor himself of whatever system is believed in’. Nowadays we would argue that transference and countertransfer- ce are both present and important at the four stages of action scribed by Jung (in 1929!), and the main problem raised by thisThe therapist’s interventions in Jungian analysis 33 description of the psychotherapeutic process is to know which level to select at any given time. We shall return to the issue of the specific features of Jungian psychotherapy in the fourth section of this paper. SOME LINES OF FORCE Before examining analytical intervention in greater detail, it seems advisable to state certain truisms which can serve as a reference grid: 1. By definition, analytical intervention takes place in the analytical setting; it cannot be considered outside this context, indeed it is ‘unthinkable’ in its absence. 2. Analytical intervention is linked—necessarily—to the (counter)- transferential dynamics; consequently, it can never be entirely neu- tral. 3. No intervention is ‘good’ or ‘bad’ per se. At the most, an assessment can be made of its ‘technical’ relevance and appropriateness in the light of its insertion in the analytical setting and the (counter)- transference. Since the setting is, in principle, stable—the sole reliable point of reference—‘mistakes’ can be described in relation to this unchanging background. Nevertheless, the dynamics of the (counter)transference are in perpetual movement, so that what constitutes a correct intervention one day may be inappropriate the next. Moreover, the greatest ‘technical’ blunder may represent an extremely valuable intervention in some circumstances. This does not, however, mean that any intervention is good; technical rigour is important and mistakes must be avoided. Even so, no attempt should be made to ‘correct’ a blunder (in an effort to re-establish our narcissistic self-image): the aim should rather be to integrate the mistake in a meaningful discourse. Blunders, too, are signifi- cant. 4. Our interventions should be designed to liberate the patient’s speech rather than our own. The analyst has been compared to a mid-wife (in French: ‘sage-femme’, a ‘wise’ woman) possessing the wisdom not of an omniscient guardian of the truth but of a skilled worker helping the patient to discover his own truth, 5. Analysis of the negative transference is the touchstone of the analyti- cal process. Intervention must never avoid this challenge. 6. Intervention should be considered in a continuous interaction between patient and analyst; with a view to avoiding any unilat- eral selectiveness, two questions must always be borne in mind: a. What, on the part of the client, provoked our intervention?34 J. Dehing (Some perceptive analysands know in advance what we are going to say!) b. What is the client’s response to this intervention: has it deep- ened contact, does it lead the patient to elaborate and supply new material? Or does it cause him to withdraw into himself? Is the intervention evacuated, systematically demolished, or idealized? Does the patient examine the analyst’s every single word or can we talk nonsense knowing that he will retain only what he finds useful? Our interventions will inevitably be influenced by our ‘personal equation’; this can be formulated in terms of Jungian typology (with the advantage of bringing to mind the typological dynamic that can be established in the relationship with the patient). In this connection, we can also consider what we tend to emphasize in our analytical listening: images, language, bodily experience, etc. A CRITICAL ‘INVENTORY’ OF INTERVENTIONS The following types will be distinguished: a. b. c. f. g h. interventions relating to the therapeutic setting; silence; interventions designed to sustain the dynamic, to keep the dis- course moving: —questioning; —emphasizing, establishing connections, reactivating, clarifying, confronting; —‘supportive’ interventions; —amplification; interventions seeking ‘the right word’: hypothesis, construction, and interpretation, which we prefer to regard as elements in a continuum; ‘subjective’ interventions, in which the analyst reveals his own experience; non-verbal interventions; guiding and pedagogical interventions; ‘proscribed’ interventions, or ‘the shadow’. Clearly, such an inventory is artificial and non-exhaustive; some inter- ventions can be classified under several headings where others would be out of place. Moreover, as has already been pointed out, the least appropriate intervention may prove the most stimulating; in stercoreThe therapist's interventions in Jungian analysis 35 invenitur, provided, of course, one is searching: that is the sole purpose of this short list. a. Interventions associated with the setting A distinction will be drawn between the establishment of the setting and its maintenance during analysis. Establishment of the setting This involves a statement of the rules governing the analytical relationship; the analyst defines the conditions in which he/she intends to work; certain conditions may be negotiable but, once the contract has been concluded, the specific rules will constitute a fixed reference framework. These rules relate to: a. the practical organization of sessions (time, place, fees, confiden- tiality); b. the ‘analytical’ attitude: the analysand is invited to reveal every- thing that enters his consciousness; anything can be said, but nothing is to be acted out. The possible meaning of this ‘material’, together with the (counter)transferential dynamics which it crystallizes, will be the subject of constant questioning. It is for the individual analyst to define his/her optimum working conditions and to impart a clear and precise idea of these to the patient. In our view, this initial ‘intervention’ is one of the most important: on the one hand, it establishes the setting within which the analytical process can take place and, on the other, it defines the analyst’s limits, his objectively formulated ‘hate’, his unequivocal and non-arbitrary ‘no’. Maintenance of the setting In principle, the analyst will note any departure from the framework established in this way (an infringement for which either the analyst or patient may be responsible)—not in any moralizing, condemna- tory, or reproachful way, but so as to invite the question: What is the meaning of this acting out? Our purpose is not to draw up an indictment but to render what occurred speakable in the context of the predetermined limits. Occasionally, moreover, it will be necessary firmly to remind the patient of these limits before any meaning can be sought. ‘Any alteration of the setting in the course of analysis (for example,36 J. Dehing a change in the frequency of sessions) should initially be considered from the following standpoint: What is its meaning? 6. Silence This borderline intervention is often the most difficult to adopt, whatever analysands say. How many times has the opportunity to remain silent been wasted! These broken silences say much about our countertransference, provided we are prepared to confront them: is it necessary to point out that silence is the analyst’s natural condition? Nor should it be forgotten that such non-verbal communication can acquire various meanings, ranging from unconditional acceptance to total rejection. Silence may indicate our respect for the other and for what he is experiencing in his own way and at his own pace; it is an attitude which avoids disturbing, interrupting, trivializing, reduc- ing, or intruding. But it may also be perceived as an expression of indifference, boredom, despair, or hatred. The void it creates can be a life-enhancing space ot a nothingness inhabited by death. ¢, Interventions designed to sustain the dynamic Questioning There are different ways of asking questions. Ideally, the analyst midwife will use them to facilitate the client’s access to his own speech: ‘What are you trying to say to me?’ They reveal a constant awareness of the limits of the analyst’s own knowledge: if he doesn’t understand something why shouldn’t he ask the patient? The latter’s response is frequently highly relevant, as if the question had given him the right to find his own answer and discover his own truth whilst calling into question the omniscience formerly attributed to the analyst. On the other hand, a question can be tendentious, inviting the analyst’s predetermined answer. Even an innocent question, moreover, may be taken as an indi- cation of the analyst’s profound knowledge. This risk is, however, reduced where questions are kept simple: a request for clarification or a biographical detail, association with reference to the elements of a dream or account, etc. New material may thus be revealed: additional information for the analyst, new knowledge for the client. Emphasizing, connecting, reactivating, clarifying, and confronting These are all structuring interventions designed to promote the observing activity of the ego, the Betrachtung; they invite the patient to consider carefully what occurs at the manifest content level. ThisThe therapist's interventions in Jungian analysis 37 can lead to a change of perspective, increased psychic mobility, and a greater likelihood of insight. Emphasizing (drawing attention to) may focus on a coincidence, a repetition, a contradiction (between two feelings, or between a declared wish and actual behaviour), a split, an acting out, a slip of the tongue, or the feelings dominating a session. Connecting establishes a link between elements of diverse origin: what is expressed in words, dream or biographical data, the mood of a session, etc. Reactivating (‘boosting’): the analyst repeats a word or sentence just spoken by the patient, possibly altering its emphasis or punctuation to a greater or lesser extent; the patient is asked to associate with reference to a dream, an image, or a word. Sometimes, he is reminded of a detail left in suspense at an earlier session. Emphasizing, connecting, and reactivating may have the effect of clarification; the analyst may also be led to clarify his own statements, either in response to questioning or by becoming aware of ambiguities in his interventions. In confrontation, the analyst reintroduces material which the analys- and would prefer to ignore or deny. Confrontation is similar to emphasizing but is more intense and clear-cut; for example, it enables the analyst to bring a patient lost in disembodied idealizing talk back to physical reality and suffering. ‘Supportive’ interventions These are certainly the most controversial. The analyst performs a ‘holding’ function: though generally a silent witness, he occasionally indicates that he has heard what the patient said and that he supports him; he reacts with empathy to the patient’s emotions, rephrasing his statements where appropriate and offering narcissistic confirmation. He provides support and encourages the development of new possi- bilities (in language, images, jokes, laughter, non-verbal expression). He sets limits and acts as a ‘container’ when the patient appears to be in total disarray. The value of such containing interventions is rarely disputed, particularly in the case of patients with a ‘weak ego’ (narcissistic problems and borderline cases). At the same time, it is necessary to ask ourselves precisely when we become foo maternal in certain (counter)transferential situations, or even whether we are not generally a little too identified with the ‘Good Mother’. Even the famous analytical grunt which is supposed to indicate our presence (more benevolent than neutral?) may be excessive; the analysand may perceive the most innocent ‘hm’ as an expression of total comprehen-38 J. Dehing sion, whereas it might only indicate the therapist's fear of frustrating his patient. Encouragements and optimistic, reassuring words should be avoided: too frequently, they reveal the analyst’s difficulty in con- fronting manifestly depressive contents, nigredo, death. It may occasionally be appropriate to set limits to extreme darkness by highlighting some brighter element which the analysand is denying. Generally, however, the analyst must accept the patient's distress unreservedly. Far from strengthening the ego, such interventions as reassurance, extension of the session beyond the agreed period, the offer of additional sessions, replies to questions having a latent sig- nificance, and the provision of advice or instructions lead, on the contrary, to regression, disintegration, and a therapeutic misalliance. The best way of supporting a patient at a time of crisis is by maintaining a rigorous technique (isn’t the therapeutic setting the principal ‘holding’ element?) and if possible offering correct interpre~ tations. These two elements constitute the firmest support possible. Any other form of ‘reassuring’ intervention is likely to be perceived and rightly, as an expression of our disarray, and the patient's reali ation that he has confused us will be anything but reassuring! Are we ever entitled to indicate fundamental optimism? Some patients never discover the significance of their suffering and thus never escape it. Death instincts, envy, and destructiveness undoubt- edly exist and are sometimes beyond the reach of analysis. To respond with ‘reassuring words’ would be an insult to patients facing these agonies. Amplification This controversial form of intervention is unduly favoured by the advocates of the ‘symbolic’ approach and unfairly condemned by those who prefer a ‘clinical’ attitude. In our view, the analyst may occasionally suggest a myth, a story, or an image which can provide a structure for the patient’s experience or a tool or reconnaissance point from which meaning can be developed. Even Freud was not averse to this type of intervention, as some passages in his Traumden- tung show! It seems important that any image suggested in this way should also have living meaning for the analyst himself and should not be a pretext for the display of his knowledge of comparative mythology. Clearly, amplification must avoid both idealizing flights of fancy and banal generalizations.The therapist’s interventions in Jungian analysis 39 d. Interventions designed to find ‘the right words’ We prefer the term ‘hypothesis’ because of its obviously conjectural nature; similarly, ‘construction’ and ‘interpretation’ can only be hypo- thetical since they do not explain and are never exhaustive or defini- tive. They establish links, indicate similarities, provide translation. A good translator is cautious, respectful of the text and others’ ideas, aware both of his own limitations and the limits of his impossible task. An inelegant but faithful translation offers the great advantage of inviting the analysand to participate in the interpretative process and find his own formulations. A brilliant translation frequently betrays the original text, substituting the translator's knowledge for the author’s. If a patient cannot himself find ‘the right words’, he becomes dependent on our language, our creation of meaning. Sometimes, the analyst himself is lost for words; in these cases, he must resort to expressions from the theoretical corpus on which he relies. While hypotheses formulated in such terms may be cumbersome and easily lend themselves to rationalization—particularly if they are of the causal type—they are sometimes the only expedients available. Ideally, interpretation should take place in the (counter)transference: this renders it more concrete, anchoring it in the somato-psychic experience of the moment, common both to the analysand and analyst who must, of course, not use this form of intervention to withdraw from the analytical process. In addition to defence mechanisms, resistances, and the transference itself, interpretation may relate to dreams, conscious and unconscious fantasies, actes manqués and acting out, and indeed to any element susceptible of translation and the imparting of meaning. It is ‘at the heart of analytical intervention’ (Langs 1973). A ‘successful’ interpre- tation is a work of art which both surprises and revives (Maffei 1989). e. ‘Subjective’ interventions In principle, the analyst does not reveal his emotions and feelings, but attempts to metabolize them by examining their possible signifi- cance in the (counter)transferential dynamics. Sometimes, however, this subjective experience is particularly violent; this may be the case with ‘negative’ emotions (irritation, hate, anger, malaise, exhaustion) and, occasionally, with amorous, erotic feelings. Here, both consti- pation and incontinence must be avoided, since each renders integra- tion difficult. In such situations, we can say to the analysand: ‘I’m not sure what’s happening, but since (. . .) ’ve been feeling particu- larly (...). What do you think of that?’ In this way, the analystic __ J. Dehing relieves (some of) his tension without losing sight of the analytical objective and, at the same time, inviting the other to participate in the questioning process. The patient’s response is often astonishingly precise and relevant. Sometimes, the analyst speaks in terms of causality, informing the patient of what has been induced at the countertransferential level; at other times, he indicates an intention, for example by outlining his therapeutic objectives or his relationship to the other in the analytical setting. f. Non-verbal interventions Language-mediated interventions constitute only a very small pro- portion of our participation in sessions. We are there not ‘in’ or ‘with’ our body (expressions which still bear witness to the hubris of our conscious ego)—we are this body (and this ‘we’ is far more than the conscious ego). This body continually emits signals which are largely beyond our conscious control; these are received by the other, again frequently unconsciously. This creates a whole network of physical, subliminal, and inexpressible links between the analysand and our- selves, Posture (‘muscular chains’), facial expression, physiognomy, tonus, gesture, tics, smell, respiration, voluntary and involuntary sounds. ... Our voice—and the patient’s—come into play even before the first analytical session; a (counter)transferential current is established with the first telephone conversation. Subsequently, the quality of our voice will acquire greater importance for certain patients than the content of our verbal interventions, being perceived as an enveloping sea of sound or an intolerably aggressive noise. Some of our physical gestures are more or less conscious: yawning; astonished, admiring, ironical, and incredulous looks; and all the manifestations of body language which constitute continual inter- vention, particularly in face-to-face therapy. It is not, moreover, simply a question of our body, since the entire ‘non-human’ environment with which we surround ourselves is also involved: our house, the waiting-room, the consulting room with its furniture, books, objects, flowers, and plants, our style of dress. These all constitute silent, but none the less significant, interventions for many analysands. g. Guiding or pedagogical interventions These ‘agogic’ interventions mark a departure from the non-directive sphere and therefore tend to constitute exceptions in analytical work. Are we acting as ‘pedagogues’ when we outline our working methodsThe therapist’s interventions in Jungian analysis 41 and the rules of treatment? Is it appropriate to explain a psychological mechanism and indicate certain aspects of theory, for example con- cerning the analysis of dreams? Some degree of guidance is occasionally called for, particularly in the interests of maintaining the setting and preventing certain destruc- tive and potentially dangerous acts. Can an analyst-doctor prescribe psychotropic drugs? Does this not make him potentially both a bad psychiatrist (scarcely in the right position to assess the need for such medication) and a bad analyst (acting out his own countertransferential anxieties)? h, ‘Prohibited’ interventions Here, more than in any other case, the list is likely to be incomplete: even so, it may be useful to consider all the interventions which are considered to be ‘bad’, contra-indicated, and anti-therapeutic. Thus, our shadow sometimes appears—aggressive, sarcastic, wounding, or seductive; on other occasions, our defence mechanisms cause us to withdraw. On yet other occasions, our ‘grandiose self’ will make us appear as an omniscient all-powerful guru. How many times do we offer ‘wise’ but empty words to hide our ignorance and helplessness or because we cannot bear not to respond to the patient! It is difficult to say ‘no’ to an analysand’s request; we therefore avoid this difficulty by giving an evasive, ‘listless’, sullen reply. At other times, we disguise our boredom with empty words, rather than seeking to examine our lack of interest. It seems likely that conscious ‘errors’ form the tip of the iceberg of our blunders. Although supervision may occasionally enable us to identify some others, the majority of our shortcomings remain submerged in the unconscious. Recognition of this fact prompts the two following observations: 1. acceptance of this fundamental inadequacy may lead to the delib- erate adoption of technical rigour—not as a protective shield, but in order to create a certain room for manoeuvre that is more or less safe from our shadow; 2. there is something miraculous about the fact that, notwithstand- ing all our human—all too human!—failings, we manage to achieve creativity in analysis. In such cases, we would echo the alchemists in saying that the work was done Deo concedente.42 J. Dehing THE SPECIFIC CHARACTER OF ‘JUNGIAN’ INTERVENTION Consideration of this problem raises two preliminary questions: Is there such a thing as Jungian specificity and, if so, what are its characteristics? Jung himself detested systematization (Samuels 1987), claiming that he never wanted there to be ‘Jungians’. This was his way of stressing the importance of individual personal development, differentiation and individuation; he wished to avoid any indoctrination and dogma- tism in the training of analysts. It was for these reasons that he opposed the creation of a Jung Institute. This opposition was, how- ever, somewhat inconsistent and ambivalent, since he subsequently favoured the idea of examinations in such an Institute. Whatever the true position, different ‘post-Jungian schools’ undoubtedly now exist: Samuels (1987) even goes so far as to claim that these very differences ‘can paradoxically help us to define the (Jungian) discipline’. From this standpoint, its diversity and respect for differences are its principal distinguishing feature. Another paradox with which Jung confronts us are the logical contradictions inherent in his work (see Dehing 1990, for a more detailed examination of this topic). Despite claiming to be a clinician, empiricist, and phenomenologist, Jung's words occasionally take on a shghtly disconcerting, prophetic tone which calls for a metaphorical, “psychoanalytical’ reading. Anyone who takes these texts literally, ignoring Jung’s own warnings, arrives at a doubtful Jungianism which fully deserves the accusations of mysticism, obscurantism, and lack of rigour made by his opponents. Here Jung turns into a guru, and even an inspirer of sectarian doctrines. Obviously, we have no hesi- tation in opting for the psychoanalytical approa At present, the Jungian world is essentially di two main topics, namely: ided in relation to a. the transference and countertransference, and b. the Self and the archetypes. According to Samuels, the ‘classical’ school, which is the closest to Jung, stresses the symbolic experience of the Self and attaches less importance to study of the archetypes and the (counter)transference. The ‘genetic’ school gives priority to the (counter)transference (and a clinical attitude based on child-development theories); by contrast, the ‘archetypal’ school adopts a more symbolic approach, stressing the archetypes and their representations. Both these schools see manifes- tations of the Self as of intermediate importance. Before defining our own position, we shall endeavour to outlineThe therapist’s interventions in Jungian analysis 43 Jung’s point of view in relation to the two above-mentioned topics although we are, of course, conscious of the fact that this approach is far from exhaustive with regard to Jung’s ideas about psychothera- peutic intervention. a. The (counter)transference Here, Jung’s contribution is characterized by its richness, and its ambivalence. In developing this point, we shall make considerable use of the excellent study produced by Steinberg (1988). Jung significantly enriched the concept of transference developed by Freud. He was among the first to insist on the importance of the countertransference (as much, it appears, as a result of his attempts to reveal Freud’s blind spots, as from his own countertransferential reactions, which were frequently highly disturbing); he introduced ‘didactic’ analysis into classical psychoanalysis as an indispensable element in analytical training. Jung himself, however, managed to avoid complying with this requirement (without having Freud's excuse of being the elder!). ‘An important fact to be emphasized is that, throughout his writ- ings, Jung maintained that the personal, infantile component of the neurosis which manifests in the transference must first be analysed. This ‘transference neurosis’ must be analysed ‘reductively’ prior to any attempt to analyse the collective unconscious. It seems important to stress this idea which reappears throughout Jung’s work: Jungian specificity develops on the basis of a Freudian-style analysis, which is regarded as the starting-point of any analytic endeavour. Jung was to broaden this base by the addition of two new concepts: on the one hand, he supplemented ‘reductive’ analysis by the ‘synthetic’ or ‘constructive’ method and, on the other, he enlarged personal by ‘archetypal’ transference. The ‘synthetic’ approach assigns a creative element to the transfer- ence, which is no longer seen merely as a repetition of infantile attitudes to be reduced by interpretation, but also as exhibiting purpos- ive value. Jung thought that the transferential dynamics had an objec- tive which is initially unconscious. The transference acts as a mediator of the ‘transcendent function’, being a vector of unconscious attempts at change and renewal. Certain key concepts of analytical psychology are also relevant here: unconscious compensatory activity—a fre- quently fertile working hypothesis—and interpretation at the subjec- tive level resulting in a withdrawal of projections and an introjection of the projected material. This viewpoint renders the (counter)transferential dynamics richer for the analyst also, since the analytical process becomes potentially44 J. Dehing creative for him as well. Other schools of analysis, particularly those inspired by Melanie Klein, have substantially and implicitly incorpor- ated these Jungian contributions. The transference is also regarded as ‘archetypal’; as has already been seen, the transferential process is archetypal in its aim of promoting individuation, that is to say it is subtended and directed by uncon- scious forces. There can also be a transference of archetypal contents: in such cases, interpretation at the subjective level is indicated, possibly accompanied by amplification, if only to prevent inflation on the part of the analyst, given the tendency of the latter to identify with the projected contents. To summarize, it can be said that Jung recommends a ‘reductive’ Freudian analysis of the transference as an indispensable first step, adding two sets of specific components, namely the ‘synthetic’ con- structive approach which stresses interpretation at the subjective level and the removal of projections, and the ‘archetypal’ aspects of the transference in both its function and its contents. Here as elsewhere, unfortunately, Jung is not entirely consistent, since he sometimes endorses Freud’s view that the transference is ‘the alpha and omega of psychoanalysis’ while at others going as far as to say that ‘normal people never have transferences’ (1935). We know that Jung tended to regard the transference more as an awkward obstacle than as a valuable therapeutic tool; he is said to have readily entrusted the ‘Freudian’ phase of his analyses to a pupil, before himself taking over in the ‘synthetic’ phase. He was much happier working on dreams (preferably ‘great’ ones), visions and other images, and even expressed a certain disdain for ‘personal stuff, all sorts of little resistances and wrong attitudes’ (1976, I, p. 3). W. B. Goodheart (1984) offers an interesting interpretation of Jung’s attitude to the transference of his ‘first patient’, his cousin Hélne Preiswerk (Helly); Jung provided an account of the sessions which revealed Helly’s mediumistic abilities in his doctoral thesis (1902). The sessions took place ‘en famille’, in the presence, among others, of Jung’s mother; Jung himself was nineteen and Helly thirteen when the sessions began. Goodheart shows how Jung bluntly dismissed, ignored, and even denied any significant statement by Helly of per- sonal, emotional, or erotic feelings towards him. Curiously, the powerful repression and splitting of these contents led to the appear- ance of ‘sub-personalities’. Jung regards these merely as the expression of the ‘autonomous’ psyche and fails to see that they represent compromise solutions arising from his interaction with Helly (in what are clearly not the optimum surroundings for the maintenance of ‘neutral’ attention).The therapist's interventions in Jungian analysis 45 While it is quite fascinating to see how inventive the psyche can be, how ingeniously jt seeks to let the imagination communicate at least some repressed emotions, the experience must surely have been destructive and alienating for young Helly. This is because it is equ- ally true, as Jung himself stresses from time to time, that the ‘objec- tive’, autonomous psyche can develop only by interaction with others: this constitutes the archetypal basis of the transferential process. Thus, as Goodheart notes, it is via these manoeuvres of denial, repression, and splitting that Jung ‘develops his seminal and illuminat- ing concept of the “autonomous psyche”. In spite of its richness as a concept in understanding the mythopoeic, archetypal and individua- ting activities of the psyche and the Self, it originated in this inter- actional situation as a protective, partly adaptive, partly defensive measure and intellectual construct with which he isolated himself’. This constitutes a clear warning of the undoubted risk of using the ‘synthetic’ method defensively: if the transferential material becomes too frightening (involving either hate or love), there is a danger of retreating to a pseudo-constructive approach and hiding our confusion behind an allegedly archetypal curtain of amplifications which block interaction and short-circuit the psyche. b. The Self and the archetypes It seems advisable to approach this topic by first considering, with the aid of Goldenberg (1975), the theory of the archetypes as left by Jung. The archetype is, first and foremost, a hypothesis, although Jung occasionally refers to it as an entity in his ‘gnostic’ passages. The archetype is posited as the unseen third, given a priori, which makes analogy possible between the expressions of individual fantasy and mythological material. In this hypothesis, the archetype is regarded as an unconscious regulatory mechanism, resembling the pattern of behaviour which governs instinctive life or the crystal’s axial system, which is virtually present prior to any observable crystallization. The ‘genetic’ school (see above) essentially studies archetypal mani- festations in early infancy. It shows how, in the dyad initially formed with the mother, the baby—with the latter’s help—succeeds in gradu- ally integrating the archetypal fantasies with which it is confronted. This approach is close to that of Melanie Klein, who also postulates the existence of innate predispositions in the newborn; moreover, the fantasies which she interprets as manifestations of the life and death instincts can be regarded as archetypal expressions. The genetic school therefore emphasizes the difficulties of integrating the archetypes in46 J. Dehing the mother-child dyad, and in the (counter)transference which consti- tutes a later version of this. This school pays less attention to the archetype as such; the ‘genetic’ analyst is primarily concerned with understanding the mechanisms which ensure the ‘humanization’ of archetypal contents. The ‘archetypal’ school, on the other hand, stresses the archetypes as such, and their representations, seeking to elucidate the meaning and scope of the products of individual fantasy with reference to cultural, mythological, and historical phenomena. This leads to a revaluation both of imagination and of the image itself. The most radical representatives of this school denounce the subtle undermining of the image which is said to be the consequence of the dissociation between the latter, a conscious phenomenological representation, and its numinous substrate, the unconscious archetype, expression of the psyche. Ultimately, they regard the image as the archetype. This approach recalls the gnostic attitude decried by Lacan: “Because the [very notion of the] archetype is to consider the symbol as the flourishing of the soul, and that is the central fact ... it is not the soul which speaks but man with his soul’ (1966, p. 469). The archetypal school is undoubtedly correct in drawing attention to a number of risks, such as the use of the archetype as a form of authority buttressing the wise advice of the analyst-pedagogue or the reification of the unconscious as a repository in which the archetypes are stored. It also condemns the excesses of a psychotherapeutic approach which is too unilaterally personalized, reductive, and ego- centred. In our view, however, it pays insufficient attention both to the (counter)transferential dynamics and the need for significant articu- lation: it is not sufficient to translate one metaphor by another or, as the alchemists used to say, ‘to explain the unknown by the even less known’. Moreover, while it may be legitimate to call the ego into question for its unduly rigid and defensive tendencies, it cannot be dispensed with as a speaking subject, an interlocutor with others and the unconscious. We shall therefore avoid being more Catholic than the Pope in dealing with the archetypes: indeed, we shall adopt an empirical approach regarding the archetype as a working hypothesis and endors~ ing the position of the ‘genetic’ school, while recognizing that the latter does not have a monopoly on universal truth either. From the firm foundation of the analytical setting and the (counter)transferential dynamics, we shail listen to the ‘archetypal’ sirens’ song without running too great a risk of being dragged into the abyss of some “-ism’. This is our choice based on the approaches studied. It is hoped thatThe therapist’s interventions in Jungian analysis 47 these pages will provide a tool which will enable the reader to define his options. If it helps him to gain a clearer understanding of his position in the Jungian jungle, leading him to question his ideology and actions, this attempt at conceptualization will essentially have achieved its objective. (Translated from the French by A. P. Bancroft) REFERENCES Begoin, J. and Begoin, F. (1982). ‘Le travail du psychanalyste’. Revue Francaise de Psychanalyse, 3-4. Cournut, J. (1983). ‘Interprétation, construction, intervention, hypo- thése, question, et le reste’, Revue Francaise de Psychanalyse, 3, 777-80. Dehing, J. (1990). ‘Jung and knowledge—from gnosis to praxis’. Journal of Analytical Psychology, 35, 4. de Neuter, P. (1987). ‘L’interprétation dans la cure psychanalytique’. Psychothérapies, 7, 4. Goldenberg, N. R. (1975). ‘Archetypal theory after Jung’. Spring. Goodheart, W. B. (1984). ‘C. G. Jung’s first patient: on the seminal emergence of Jung’s thoughts’. Journal of Analytical Psychology, 29, 1. Jung, C. G. 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