Psychoanalytic Psychology

The Theater of the Unconscious Mind

Alan Michael Karbelnig
Online First Publication, July 1, 2019. http://dx.doi.org/10.1037/pap0000251

CITATION
Karbelnig, A. M. (2019, July 1). The Theater of the Unconscious Mind. Psychoanalytic Psychology.
Advance online publication. http://dx.doi.org/10.1037/pap0000251
 Psychoanalytic Psychology
© 2019 American Psychological Association 2019, Vol. 2, No. 999, 000
0736-9735/19/$12.00 http://dx.doi.org/10.1037/pap0000251

The Theater of the Unconscious Mind

Alan Michael Karbelnig, PhD, ABPP
Pasadena, California

After comprehensively reviewing models of unconscious structure from Freud to Mitchell, the author
explores how using analogies to theater or drama for explaining the unconscious benefits the psycho-
analytic project in 2 distinct ways: They offer metaphors that transcend differences between long-
conflicting theoretical models; they allow for comprehensive methods of interpretation encompassing
myriad perspectives on the unconscious. These theatrical analogies invite disparate perspectives on
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unconscious—structure, process, dynamism, or even primitive, disorganized components—into integra-

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tive tales or stories. They add flesh to the bones of experience-distant concepts like recurring intersub-
jective patterns or nonlinear dynamic systems. The author discusses how frequently psychoanalytic
scholars, even of differing theoretical orientations, make consistent references to “internal dramas.” She
[or he] presents 3 clinical examples to illustrate the theoretical and clinical usefulness of theatrical
analogies. Finally, the author’s concluding remarks synthesize the theses presented and further validate
how such analogies contribute to achieving a more integrative, cohesive vision for the psychoanalysis of
the 21st century.

Keywords: unconscious, structure, process, theater, drama

The unconscious—arguably the only concept enjoying broad
consensus in psychoanalysis—remains mired in controversy.
Some psychoanalysts consider it shaped by innate drives, others
structured by complex processes of introjection and projection, and
still others created by interpersonal forces. Freud (1910/1991,
1912/1991, 1923/1991) emphasized the personal unconscious,
whereas Jung (1913a, 1913b, 1915a, 1915b) introduced the col-
lective one. Surprisingly, however, psychoanalysts universally
agree on the unconscious as a phenomenon. Freud (1925/1991)
defined psychoanalysis as “the science of unconscious mental
processes” (p. 70), identifying it as the field’s focal point. Poeti-
cally, Rangell (1974) described the unconscious as a “unique style
of perceptual distortion burned into [. . . a person] like a tattoo” (p.
4). Another part of a scholarly and political endeavor to unify the
psychoanalytic project (Karbelnig, 2014, 2016a, 2016b, 2018), I
promote viewing the unconscious tattoo as structured like drama as
a way to bring more integration to the field and as a cross-
theoretical means of interpretation. The idea is hardly a new one.
Psychoanalysts as diverse as Freud (1910/1991) and Jung (1913a,
1913b, 1915a, 1915b), Klein (1946) and Fairbairn (1952), and
Kohut (1977) and Mitchell (1988, 2004) used metaphors of drama
to describe unconscious dynamics.
What makes these oft-applied, well-documented theatrical anal-
ogies significant? First, they offer a vehicle for achieving greater
X Alan Michael Karbelnig, PhD, ABPP, Private Practice, Pasadena,
California.
Correspondence concerning this article should be addressed to Alan
Michael Karbelnig, PhD, ABPP, who is now at New Center for Psycho-
analysis, 2014 Sawtelle Boulevard, Los Angeles, CA 90025. E-mail:
amkarbelnig@gmail.com
cohesion and unification in the field. Rangell (1974) decried the
splintering of psychoanalysis a half century ago, noting the field
shared “the history of the 20th century: expansion, diffuse appli-
cation, use and misuse, explosion, disaster” (p. 3). Stepansky
(2009) coined the word “fractionation” (p. xvii) and, along with
Aron and Starr (2013), worried its lack of coherence could threaten
its survival as a distinct profession. If the profession will survive,
even thrive, steps must be taken to bring greater unity to the many
varied, oft-warring, tribe-like psychoanalytic schools. Using anal-
ogies to theater in psychoanalytic formulations of the unconscious
integrates widely varied theoretical perspectives.
Discussing and demonstrating application of these analogies
addresses the tribalism haunting psychoanalysis’ 1st century. It
contributes to Wallerstein’s (1990) quest for a “conceptual com-
mon ground” (p. 4) as well as Gentile’s (1998) search for “an
integrative identity for psychoanalysis” (p. 86). Further, it simpli-
fies and clarifies, responding to Stoller’s (1986) suggestion that
psychoanalysts write “at the same time—for analysts and for
others” (p. xiii). The utilization of analogies to drama or theater to
understand unconscious structure or process extends an earlier
proposal (Karbelnig, 2018) that framing, presence, and engage-
ment provide a cross-theoretical nomenclature for clinical psycho-
analysis. The unique artistry of applied psychoanalysis prohibits
proposing any one universal method of understanding or practice;
however, the use of such theatrical analogies offers one vehicle for
bridging the sometimes contentious differences between psycho-
analytic schools of thought.
Second, understanding and applying analogies to drama or theater
facilitate interpretations of various perspectives on the unconscious,
thereby not only integrating theoretical differences but also expanding
the scope of interpretations. In clinical practice, metaphors to drama
incorporate many theoretical loose-ends—structure, process, even
unformulated unconscious experiences existing beyond language and

1
 2 KARBELNIG
symbolization. These analogies breathe life into some of the earlier
models of the unconscious, like Freud’s (1923/1991) id and ego,
Klein’s (1946) unconscious fantasy, or Fairbairn’s (1952) dynamic
structures. They add flesh to the bones of the more contemporary
models, grounding abstract ones like Stolorow’s (2013) “recurring
patterns of inter-subjective transactions” (p. 383) or Galatzer-Levy’s
(2004) “non-linear dynamic systems” (p. 433). Hoffman’s (1998)
concept of dialectical-constructivism, specifically the constructivist
component, becomes illuminated through using analogies to theater or
drama. In sum, these analogies offer experience-near, clinically use-
ful, cross-theoretical methods for enhancing communication between
psychoanalysts and their patients as well as between psychoanalysts
themselves.
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Consider the example of a patient presenting with angry, verbal
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outbursts. Depending on their theoretical orientation, psychoana-
lysts may attribute the observable behavior to unconscious phe-
nomena as divergent as an overactive death drive, an attachment
deficit, or a perverse, indirect means of interpersonal communica-
tion. Analogies to theater or drama can incorporate these various
theories of the etiology of aggression into one formulation—
whether explaining psychodynamics to colleagues or offering in-
terpretations to patients. Unformulated unconscious experiences,
such as a sense of nameless dread linked, perhaps, to fragmented,
part-objects in the unconscious, may similarly be explained or
understood in terms of drama. I remember a patient with clinical
paranoia pointing me to the science fiction work of H. P. Lovecraft
to enhance my comprehension of his deeply suspicious view of the
world. Reading only one or two of Lovecraft’s short stories opened
up entire new horizons for my understanding of, and capacity to
empathize with, this patient. It provides an excellent example of
how analogies to drama (or, in this case, literature) facilitated
understanding of fragmented, primitive, and disorganized features
of the unconscious. The three clinical examples, appearing later,
demonstrates their range. Of course, no metaphor can entirely
encompass the endless complexities of the unconscious, but the-
atrical analogies facilitate descriptions of a remarkable range of
unconscious phenomena.
Potentially a source of reluctance, even resistance, these theat-
rical analogies run counter to the linearity and logical-positivism
characteristic of the modern historical period. Psychoanalysts,
particularly in America where evolution of the field was signifi-
cantly influenced by medicine, have tended to tint their theories of
the unconscious with empiricist, scientific terminology. Words
like equilibrium, derived from chemistry, and discharge, borrowed
from engineering, figure prominently in the earliest psychoanalytic
models. Later theoretical developments retained seemingly scien-
tific terms like object, introject, or drive, but the tenacious sci-
entism also elicited negative reactions. Critiquing such modernist
trends, Foucault (1977), described the post-Enlightenment individ-
ual as an “object of information, never a subject in communica-
tion” (p. 200). The style of viewing matter, things, ideas, or
anything as linear in psychoanalysis partially reversed itself be-
ginning in the early 20th century. Stolorow (1994), for example,
acknowledged the emergence of a new “lexicon attempting to
capture the endlessly shifting, constitutive relational context of
intra-psychic experience, both in the psychoanalytic situation and
in the course of psychological development” (p. 222). Consider-
ations of the unconscious as structured like a drama conform with
these more poetic, unfolding perspectives of the unconscious
mind. As the next section validates, psychoanalysts, even of
widely different theoretical orientations, have often referred to
unconscious internal dramas. I proceed now to survey the major
psychoanalytic contributions to the concept of unconscious struc-
ture, demonstrate how often phrases like “internal drama” appear,
and provide three specific clinical examples before making con-
cluding remarks.
Extant Psychoanalytic Models of the Unconscious—
A Brief Overview
The concept of the unconscious has an ancient heritage. The
Vedas, traceable to between 2500 and 600 BC, made reference to
it. The term unconscious enjoyed common usage in Western
philosophy, psychology, and medicine by the time Freud began
using the term (Meyer-Dinkgrafe, 1996). In the 19th century,
psychologists and psychiatrists recognized unconscious cerebra-
tion as not only real but of the highest importance. Ellenberger’s
(1970) scholarly and detailed explication of the discovery of the
unconscious includes an extensive review of how preliterate soci-
eties viewed the unconscious (pp. 3–52). Subsequent to Freud’s
introducing the psychoanalytic profession just over a century ago,
psychoanalytic scholars expanded conceptualizations of uncon-
scious structure. Only Freud, Klein, and Fairbairn developed com-
plete models of the mind (Greenberg & Mitchell, 1983), and,
therefore, comprehensive explanations for unconscious develop-
ment and function. Jung also offered a wide-ranging theory—
albeit evolving in a separate institutional pathway.
Subsequent psychoanalytic theorists added features to these four
models, including how social and cultural contextual factors in-
fluence the development of the unconscious. Among the first
psychoanalysts to emphasize interpersonal influences, Ferenczi
(1929) highlighted how trauma shaped the unconscious. Later,
other contributors, notably Fairbairn (1952), and, voluminously,
Winnicott (1953, 1956, 1960, 1965, 1969, 1971), credited early
mother–infant relations as creating crucial foundations of uncon-
scious structure. Still later, other middle school theorists granted
social forces even greater prominence in developing unconscious
structure. The more recent literature tends to dissolve concepts of
the unconscious as even existing within individual minds, that is,
Stolorow and Atwood’s (1994) “myth of the isolated mind” (p.
234).
Unconscious Structure From Freud to Bion
Freud (1898/1991) first used the word unconscious in an unpub-
lished draft about hysteria, writing “the provoking cause [of hysteria]
continues to operate in the unconscious” (p. 52). Introducing the
topographical model of the mind, he elaborated upon the concept and
added two related structures—the preconscious and the conscious
(Freud, 1898/1991). In Mourning and Melancholia, Freud (1917/
1991) first described the unconscious in a manner suggestive of
theater. He observed parts of mind conflicting with one another, much
like characters clashing in a theatrical play, writing, “one part of the
ego sets itself over against the other, judges it critically, and, as it
were, takes it as its object” (Freud, 1917/1991, p. 247). Contemporary
practitioners of Freudian psychoanalysis might theorize that an ex-
cessively harsh superego contributes to depression, poor ego devel-
opment accounts for weak impulse control, or insufficient barriers
 THEATER OF THE UNCONSCIOUS MIND
between the ego and the id creates anxiety. These metaphors lend
themselves to theatrical analogies. Extending original Freudian ideas
into the late 20th century, Lacan (1998) believed “the unconscious is
structured like a language” (p. 48). He thought metaphor served the
function of condensation, and metonymy of displacement. The use of
language, Lacan (1988) reasoned, reflected the unconscious mind
emerging from the “discourse of the other” (p. 89). And yet language
generally, and metaphor and metonymy specifically, provide the
scaffolding for tales, stories, and dramas.
Jung (1996) famously proposed a separate component of the un-
conscious, the collective unconscious, described as “a second psychic
system of a collective, universal, and impersonal nature” (p. 43)
imbued with “archetypes” (p. 43). Influenced by his study of mythol-
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ogy, Jung (1915a) believed “collective knowledge” (p. 51) existed.
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Also, he observed archetypal meaning in “the delusional structures of
the insane; the illusions of the neurotic; and the dreams of normal as
well as abnormal individuals [. . .]” (Jung, 1913a, p. 117). Jung
(1915a) contributed to the understanding of the unconscious in other
ways, including his differentiating the Psyche—representing a per-
son’s conscious sense of self—from the Self—referring to the inte-
grated person, only achieved through individuation, and usually in the
second half of life (von Franz, 1964). Ultimately, Jung (1965) ven-
tured beyond simply hinting at internal dramatic themes, overtly
describing the unconscious as “an acting and suffering subject with an
inner drama” (p. 644).
Klein (1935) made significant moves away from the Freudian
tri-partite model of the mind to an object relational one, viewing the
unconscious as consisting of sets of fantasies, heavily imbued with
aggression, and dynamically interacting with one another. Isaacs
(1948) proposed that “unconscious phantasies” (p. 74) comprised the
foundational elements of the unconscious. Klein (1935) identified
good and bad objects, derived from infants’ perceptions of their
mothers’ breasts. These “imagos” (Klein, 1935, p. 45) consisted of “a
phantastically distorted picture of the real objects upon which they are
based” (p. 45). Bion (1957, 1959, 1963, 1965), although primarily
extending Klein’s and Freud’s ideas, also made his own unique
contributions to understanding unconscious structure. Bion (1963)
considered the unconscious as comprised of Beta elements—primi-
tive, encoded thoughts and emotions—subject to transformation
through the “Alpha function” (p. 4) of parenting and of psychoana-
lytic processes. His concepts of “container and contained” (Bion,
1963, p. 3), which place greater emphasis upon interpersonal forces,
imply internal characters enacted in interpersonal environments. Bion
elaborated upon how such internal characters develop through recip-
rocating processes of projective identification and introjection, a con-
cept Grotstein (2008) later developed further. These ideas also com-
port with considering the unconscious as internal drama. Bion (1959)
described how, when receiving projective identifications, clinicians
begin “playing a part . . . in someone else’s fantasy” (p. 149).
Although Bion came close to specifically identifying unconscious
dramatic themes as foundational, many of his ideas—specifically
regarding interactions between parts of the unconscious— hint at, and
are easily encompassed within, a dramaturgical model.
Unconscious Structure From Fairbairn to Kohut
Fairbairn’s (1952) unconscious “endo-psychic structure” (p. 328)
diametrically opposed Klein’s and Bion’s. Theirs emphasized the
biological; his emphasized the environmental. Much of Fairbairn’s
3
ideology may be condensed into the simple idea that, when infants’
efforts to attach to primary caregivers are thwarted, that is, through
childhood frustration or trauma, they seek sanctuary by retreating into
their unconscious minds to maintain the security of the external
interpersonal world. Fairbairn (1952) organized these internal sche-
mata into self-other (ego-object) units he named “dynamic structures”
(p. 132). Relying upon his seminary training for symbolism, Fairbairn
(1952) noted of unconscious dynamics that, “. . . if a True Mass is
being celebrated in the chancel, a Black Mass is being celebrated in
the crypt” (p. 70, italics mine). Here, Fairbairn just misses overtly
declaring the themes residing in the dark basement of the unconscious
as specifically theatrical. He delineates an unconscious featuring in-
ternalized selves dynamically interacting with internalized others.
Arguably more than any pioneering psychoanalytic theorist, Fairbairn
introduced a model of the unconscious closely approaching a direct
theatrical conceptualization.
Winnicott (1953, 1956, 1960, 1965, 1969, 1971), and others in
the British Middle School, echoed Fairbairn in also offering dra-
matically tinged conceptualizations of the unconscious. Winnicott
(1956), who directly tied mother–infant relations to the develop-
ment of the unconscious, noted how a “false self” (p. 387) devel-
ops in infants and toddlers as they adapt to caregivers’ mis-
attunements. An adaptive façade accommodates to what caretakers
need—albeit at the expense of the authentic or real self. The false
self suggests a split in character or, to directly reference a concept
from drama, the existence of two competing characters, one hiding
behind the other. Winnicott (1953) thereby joined the parade of
middle-school theorists who stressed the reality impact of the
external world, that is, the “good enough” (p. 95) mother, in
forming a stable internal world— one capable, for example, of
allowing individuals to tolerate aloneness.
Furthering Fairbairn’s contributions, Ogden (1983) synthesized
the ideas of Freud, Abraham, Klein, Fairbairn, Winnicott, and Bion
into a comprehensive model of the unconscious internal world. His
work facilitated considering the unconscious as internal drama.
Ogden (1983) used the phrase “ego sub-organizations” (Ogden,
1983, p. 232) to expand upon, and provide energy for, “internal
objects” (Fairbairn, 1952, p. 169). These internal objects, Ogden
(1983) believed, consist of features of ego—some highly identified
with others and some with self. These allow internal objects to
think, feel, and perceive semiautonomously—again suggestive of
an unconscious internal drama.
Kohut (1977, 1979) discarded the ego, id, and superego (as
Fairbairn had before him), promoting his own nomenclature for
unconscious structure. In his paper, The Two Analyses of Mr. Z,
Kohut (1979) suggested the existence of a “vertical split” (p. 26)
in the structure of the unconscious, as opposed to a horizontal one.
For Kohut (1979) then, the mature unconscious mind features parts
of self, or characters if you will, harmoniously interacting.
Unconscious Structure From Kohut to
Relational Psychoanalysis
Recent work in self-psychology further supports considering the
unconscious as structured like drama. Lichtenberg, Lachmann, and
Fosshage (2008) used “model scenes” (p. 7) to promote patients’
self-knowledge, adding, “constructed within the patient-analyst
interaction, model scenes convey an experience as a ‘picture’ and
thus are ‘worth a thousand words’” (p. 7). These authors specifi-
 4 KARBELNIG
cally reference the Oedipal myth as useful in helping patients
integrate “previously puzzling fragments of verbal associations,
dream images, and transference configurations . . . into an
explainable whole” (p. 8). Here, the idea of cohesively com-
bining disparate psychoanalytic concepts like drive, objects, or
self-states into the idea of unconscious dramatic themes finds
direct validation. Indeed, model scenes directly translate into
unconscious internal dramatic structure. Overall, self-
psychology provides a perspective on the unconscious friendly
to a dramatic one. It also set the stage for intersubjectivity
theory (Stolorow, 2004) and still later, at least in part, for
relational psychoanalysis. Stolorow and Atwood (1994) prof-
fered the phrase, “the myth of the isolated mind” (p. 234),
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suggesting highly contextualized unconscious structures cocre-
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ated if not actually transcended by interpersonal factors.
Intersubjectivity, arguably introduced by Stolorow (1984, 1994)
and Benjamin (1988, 2013), privileges the intersubjective in con-
ceptualizing the unconscious. Atwood and Stolorow (1980) con-
sidered the unconscious a “set of configurations of representations
which, on account of their negative affective coloring and/or
association with subjective danger, consciousness is not permitted
to assume” (p. 285). Stolorow’s (1984) earlier phrases, such as
“organizational principles” (p. 645), evolved into his identifying
“recurring patterns of inter-subjective transactions” [containing]
“principles (thematic patterns, meaning-structures) that uncon-
sciously organize subsequent emotional and relational experi-
ences” (Stolorow, 2013, p. 383). Conceptualizing the unconscious
as populated by dramatic themes incorporates intersubjectivity’s
emphasis on the interpersonal, adding the fleshy, visceral feeling
of existing as real, suffering human beings engaged in dramatic
struggles inside and out.
Mitchell (1988a, 1988b, 2004), credited with developing
relational psychoanalysis, writes along the same subjective,
phenomenological lines as Stolorow. Like Baranger and
Baranger (2009), who added field theory to the understanding
of unconscious structure, Mitchell (2004) emphasizes the inter-
personal, relational foundation of the unconscious, writing “we
are embedded, to a great extent unconsciously, in interpersonal
fields, and, conversely, interpersonal configurations are embed-
ded, to a great extent unconsciously, in our individual psyches”
(p. 539). Mitchell (1988b) remembers his mentor, Harry Stack
Sullivan, considered symptoms “an interpersonal act between
characters in an internal drama expressive of an internal object
relationship” (p. 494). Mitchell (1992) too viewed individuals
“in terms of an internal drama, derived from early childhood,
that is carried around within as a memory and in which the
individual enacts one or more or all of the roles” (p. 48). Along
the same lines, Gentile (1998) described the unconscious as an
“a priori, biologically encoded, psychological predisposition,
which awaits creation and can only be created in interaction” (p.
86). These conceptualizations, again, comport with views of the
unconscious as structured like drama. Ringstrom (2001, 2008,
2012), influenced by intersubjective and relational psychoana-
lytic trends, directly references the unconscious as internal
drama. He wrote, “actors (and psychoanalytic participants) im-
merse themselves in the ‘deep structure’ of unconscious
language—that is, the unconscious drama that is built into life,
acting, and psychoanalysis” (Ringstrom, 2001, p. 745).
Contemporary Views of the Unconscious as
Internal Drama
The self-psychology, intersubjective, and relational theories
brought theatrical perspectives on unconscious structure to the
fore. McDougall (1986, 2002) clearly promotes an overarching
view of the unconscious as structured like an internal drama,
writing,
Each secret-theater self is . . . engaged in repeatedly playing roles
from the past, using techniques discovered in childhood and repro-
ducing, with uncanny precision, the same tragedies and comedies,
with the same outcomes and an identical quota of pain and pleasure.
(McDougall, 1986, p. 7)
McDougall (2000) believes the unconscious manifests in an
internal “cast of characters [which] dance to a tune we have
written” (p. 63). Echoing McDougal’s emphasis on unconscious
internal drama, Loewald (1975) considered theatricality central in
unconscious structure and in psychoanalytic work. He believed
patients’ internal dramas are “created and staged in conjunction
with, and directed by, the analyst” noting how “psychoanalysis
shares important features with dramatic art,” and how “analyst and
patient conspire in the creation of an illusion, a play” (Loewald,
1975, pp. 353–354). Ogden (1988) also saw dramatic enactments
exerting force in psychoanalytic work, writing, “one not only finds
oneself playing a role in someone else’s internal drama, one feels
unable to stop doing so” (p. 29). Ogden (1992) recommended
psychoanalysts exercise care when they open the “analytic drama”
(pp. 225–226) with different patients, noting,
Both patient and analyst are about to enter into an interpersonal drama
for which many scripts are already written (the analyst’s and the
patient’s internal dramas), and yet if the work is to be productive, a
drama never before imagined by either will have to be created.
(Ogden, 1992, p. 227)
Pine (1988) suggested an “individual is seen in terms of an
internal drama, derived from early childhood, that is carried
around within as memory (conscious or unconscious) and in which
the individual enacts one or more or all of the roles” (p. 573). He
incorporated the repetition compulsion into the internal drama
analogy, writing of “the tendency to repeat these old family dra-
mas, a repetition propelled by efforts after attachment or after
mastery or both” (p. 573). Gabbard (1989) suggested psychoana-
lysts closely monitor dramatic themes, acknowledging “the analyst
may not be able to process and understand the projective identi-
fications until after he has been ‘coerced’ by the patient into
playing a role in the patient’s internal drama” (p. 528). Noteworthy
here is Ogden’s, Pine’s and Gabbard’s specific use of the phrase
internal dramas.
Britton (1992) believed dramatic themes “become the place
where some people spend most of their lives, in which case their
external relationships are only used to enact these dramas to give
a spurious claim of reality to their fantasies which lack ‘psychic
reality’” (p. 40). Referencing its manifestation in psychoanalysts’
clinical practice, Spezzano (2001), echoing Pine (1988) and Ogden
(1992), similarly acknowledged an “internal drama of projecting
and introjecting selves and others” (p. 560). Transitioning from
“the prose and poetry of clinical work to the theatrical aspect of
clinical psychoanalysis” (p. 564), Spezzano (2001) believed par-
 THEATER OF THE UNCONSCIOUS MIND
ticipants in psychoanalytic processes are “manifestly committed to
playing a version of the roles of patient and clinician, but simul-
taneously will often, if not always, also stage dramas in which they
unconsciously play other roles” (p. 564). Here, again, readers
observe the nonempiricist phrase, internal drama, used by psycho-
analysts of differing theoretical traditions.
Katz (2000) also overtly refered to theater, noting how uncon-
scious beliefs, perceptions, and behaviors affect choices of love
objects and ways of relating to them, also used the phrase, writing
that “the internal drama is repeated and lived out in external
relationships” (p. 81). Bromberg (2001), referencing clinical situ-
ations in which patients’ internal dramas map onto their interper-
sonal relationships, suggested clinicians create transactional real-
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ities “in which trust in human relatedness begins to become
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possible” (p. 909 –910). As occurred with some of the earlier
psychoanalytic scholars, many of these more contemporary ones
also incorporated previously isolated psychoanalytic themes, such
as drive, motivation, repetition compulsion, attachment, dreams,
and other reflections of unconscious content, into their theatrically
oriented conceptualizations.
Laplanche’s (1981, 1992, 1997) contributions provide a differ-
ent, unique angle for validating the efficacy of using drama or
theater as a vehicle for understanding the unconscious. Laplanche
(1981) compared the way practitioners integrate layers of perspec-
tives during clinical work to a spiral, suggesting practitioners
integrate five basic features of psychoanalytic understanding of
mind—the topographic, economical, dynamic, genetic, and adap-
tive. As I will soon demonstrate, these are easily organized into
theatrical analogies. Incorporating the original deterministic con-
ceptions predominant in Freud, and the more recent, creative
hermeneutic conceptions emerging from Ricoeur, Jung, and other
psychoanalysts’ work, Laplanche (1992) believed much clinical
work consists of decoding and transforming injurious communi-
cations from primary attachment figures. He wrote,
The development of the human individual is to be understood as an
attempt to master, to translate, these enigmatic, traumatizing mes-
sages. Analysis is first and foremost a method of deconstruction
(ana-lysis), with the aim of clearing the way for a new construction,
which is the task of the analysand. (p. 444)
Confrontations, uncovering of deeply repressed, traumatic emo-
tional states, and similar methods of engaging patients qualify as
methods of deconstruction. Theatrical analogies may assist in
deconstruction as well, but they also serve the process of recon-
struction. These are the work of the analyst and the analysand, I
propose, and the ensuing case examples provide illustrations.
Laplanche (1997) also addressed the problem of real others in
patients’ lives, yet another element of psychoanalytic work poten-
tially enhanced by the use of theatrical analogies. Why? Because
they incorporate patients’ internal and external worlds with ease.
Laplanche (1997) described how the opening up of the transfer-
ence or, to use his words, “re-activating the originary [sic] rela-
tion” can be used to address other persons in patients’ lives and
create “a relation of address to the other and of vulnerability to the
inspiration of the other which is proper to creative individuals” (p.
665). In other words, Laplanche (1997) suggested, psychoanalysis
creates different forms of sublimation, better ones, interpersonal
ones, resulting in different types of sublimation than existed before
psychoanalysis. The case examples illustrate how dramatically
5
inspired metaphors or analogies facilitate transforming traumatic
unconscious (and interpersonal) dynamics into a less destructive,
more adaptive ones.
Clinical Examples
Three examples of interpretations in clinical settings demon-
strate the potential effectiveness of using analogies to theater or
drama. For space considerations, I will not illustrate how such
analogies also enhance interpsychoanalyst communications and
offer greater integration of disparate psychoanalytic models of
mind. These can be inferred from the material. The first case
concerns a 60-year-old man, Mr. A, romantically involved with a
woman for 8 years. His reluctance to marry her, and the disruption
caused by his resistance, elicited anxiety that led him to consult
me. Mr. A was reared in an extremely emotionally cold childhood
environment wherein basic physical needs were satisfied but emo-
tional needs ignored. He had been married previously. Mr. A
described the marriage as characterized by living “separate lives.”
The relationship ended with his wife’s death from cancer. The final
2 years of her life were characterized by his already-extant care-
giving role completely dominating the relationship.
But one angle on an extremely complex intra- and extrapsychic
situation, Mr. A had relied primarily on two basic mechanisms to
avoid re-exposure to the emotional neglect of his childhood: He
engaged in relationships in which he assumed the role of rescuer,
and he devoted himself excessively to mechanical projects like
rebuilding antique automobiles. As we worked through the child-
hood trauma and observed its manifestations in his current rela-
tionships and the transference, I compared themes we uncovered to
the 1999 film, Cider House Rules. Mr. A’s characterological
patterns reminded me of Dr. Wilbur Larch, the protagonist in the
film (based on the John Irving novel of the same title). Wilbur
masochistically sacrifices his life’s energies to the orphans for
whom he cares, struggles to receive love for himself, and ends his
days so depleted and agitated that he uses ether to sedate himself.
Mr. A remembered the film well. The cinematic analogy encom-
passed deeply emotional and disparate themes: memories of his
own childhood of emotional neglect, models of his own self-
depriving behavioral style (evident in Wilbur’s behavior), and,
also because of Wilbur’s use of ether, a parallel to Mr. A’s use of
“mechanical projects” for self-sedation. One of the orphans de-
picted in the film, Homer, had been returned twice by his foster
parents—providing yet another theatrical analogy for Mr. A’s
feeling unwanted and neglected. The film emanates a sad tone of
deprivation, encompassing some of Mr. A’s more primitive, dis-
organized unconscious elements. Of course, I introduced other
analogies into our work, but this one provided a powerful, trans-
formative vehicle.
The second case, Mr. B, also suffered early childhood trauma.
He felt unattended by an extremely narcissistic mother; his father
was a loving man but worked two jobs and was therefore often
absent. Although Mr. B graduated from a law school of little
distinction, he worked his way into the upper echelons of the legal
field. By the time he reached age 50, Mr. B owned his own, highly
successful law firm specializing in will and probate law. Never
having consulted a psychoanalyst before, he contacted me for help
for “burn out.” The phrase, burn out, consisted primarily of feel-
ings of sadness, lack of motivation, and “stress” related to his
 6 KARBELNIG
excessive devotion to his law practice. Mr. B had few friends; he
lacked outside interests. Further, despite his preference for litiga-
tion over “paper-pushing,” Mr. B spent most of his working hours
managing his law firm. Over the course of many sessions, Mr. B
reported specific, childhood memories of his mother admiring her
more successful relatives and friends. She commonly remarked of
such individuals, “now, there’s a wealthy man, and you’d never
know it from his behavior.” Mr. B’s self-limiting, even self-
destructive pattern, combined with such memories, led me to make
interpretations using ideas from the work of Lacan (1978, 1988)—
specifically an unconscious motivation to become the object of his
mothers’ desire.
The Lacanian interpretation made sense to Mr. B. Subsequently,
This article is intended solely for the personal use of the individual user and is not to be disseminated broadly.
I elaborated upon it using a theatrical analogy. I introduced Shake-
This document is copyrighted by the American Psychological Association or one of its allied publishers.
speare’s Coriolanus, a play which Mr. B had studied as an under-
graduate, as an analogy to his unconscious themes. Coriolanus’s
tyrannical nature contrasted with Mr. B’s. But beyond that differ-
ence, Shakespeare’s protagonist is motivated by the desire for the
approval and affection of his mother, Volumnia. The power Co-
riolanus surrenders to his mother, the duty he feels he owes her,
dominates his actions; it powerfully illustrated how much Mr. B
also, albeit unconsciously, enacted a myopic devotion to living a
life in accordance to his mother’s desire. The analogy to Coriola-
nus struck Mr. B’s like a bolt of lightning. Sections of the play
feature the mother and son kneeling to one another. I cited one
small piece of dialogue to Mr. B during a session. (I add, in italics,
my more-understandable interpretation of the meaning of Shake-
speare’s phrases):
Coriolanus: You gods! I prate,
[O my God, I’m babbling]
And the most noble mother of the world
[and here comes the world’s greatest mother]
Leave unsaluted: sink, my knee, i’ the earth;
[I do not even acknowledge]
He Kneels
Of thy deep duty more impression show
[Let my kneeling show how profound the duty I feel]
Than that of common sons.
[And how it exceeds average sons]
Volumnia: Thou art my warrior
[You’re my war hero]
I holp to frame thee.
[I helped shape you]
Like occurred in the case of Mr. A, this analogy to literature or
theater, in this case a Shakespearean drama, facilitated Mr. B
dismantling his strict adherence to this rigid unconscious contract.
It highlighted the unconscious pattern; it also incorporated some of
the primitive, disorganized unconscious features represented by,
for example, Coriolanus’ distinctly uncomfortable level of devo-
tion, even supplication, to his mother. Transference interpretations
incorporating themes from Coriolanus were particularly effective.
Mr. B always arrived early for sessions; he closely monitored the
time during sessions to ensure that he, and not me, maintained
control over the care he received versus the duty he delivered.
Also, Mr. B’s frequent yawning, and other expressions of fatigue
during the sessions, revealed, I suggested, a deep, fatigue that only
emerged when invited to speak his mind, to be “present,” rather
than frenetically responding to constant work demands.
My incorporating Coriolanus into the clinical work illustrates
what Laplanche (1997) meant by reactivating the original trau-
matic relation, and the addressing transference themes and actual
interpersonal relationships. Relying on Laplanche’s (1997) his
own words, Mr. B’s process of transformation included addressing
the problem of the other (as in real lack of friendships) and
reaching “the vulnerability to the inspiration of the other which is
proper to creative individuals” (p. 665). Indeed, a different, more
creative type of sublimation emerged in my work with him. Slowly
and tenuously, Mr. B drew several of his acquaintances closer; he
also began entertaining other interests and activities outside of
work.
The example of Ms. C demonstrates how internal dramas can be
uniquely developed by psychoanalyst–patient dyads, tailored to the
“singularities” (Ruti, 2012, p. 9) of patients. A 28-year-old, young
woman, describing herself as “lost,” inherited a large sum of
money that contributed to her losing motivation for study or work.
After discussing her life difficulties from a wide variety of angles,
we also identified attentional deficits as hampering her function-
ing. The young woman protested my awkward account this phe-
nomenon using the well-worn neurophysiological phrase, “execu-
tive functioning.” She offered in its place a more dramatic vision
of how unconscious themes sabotaged her ability to thrive, pro-
claiming, “I prefer to think of my life paralysis as the result of a
pirate attack. Pirates have taken the captain of my ship hostage.
They have competing, unresolved, and legitimate grievances.
They’ve been traumatized.” After a long pause during which her
eyes filled with tears, I said, “It looks like we need to work
together toward some kind of a negotiated settlement to end the
standoff.”
Here, the spontaneously created analogy to drama encompasses
structure, evident in the internal object relationship between pirates
and self; it accounts for drive, explaining how her perceived
hostage-status, created by unresolved conflicts and grievances,
contributes to the loss of motivation; additionally, the terrifying
nature of the analogy—a ship’s captain taken hostage—represents
at least some of her primitive, disorganized, and unprocessed
affect. Interestingly, the specific analogy created by Ms. C paral-
lels the lived expression of an unconscious theme, namely the
“lost” features of her life. Captains losing control of ships to
pirates distinctly suggest a life adrift.
Conclusion
Well before humans organized themselves into civilizations
some 5,000 years ago, they left hints of their unconscious minds on
cave walls. Their dramatic depictions of unconscious themes ex-
panded as the centuries passed, appearing in ever more sophisti-
cated artworks and literary traditions and, subsequently, in novels
and movies. Currently, dramatic themes pepper the ever-increasing
 THEATER OF THE UNCONSCIOUS MIND
production of TV and streaming Internet shows. Why would our
own unconscious minds be constructed any differently than these
manifestations of them? We live out our lives in dramatic enact-
ments. As Shakespeare wrote in his play, As You Like It, “all the
world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.”
Along the same lines, Phillips (2013) noted, “we can only tell the
truth through fiction and lies” (p. 11). And, when Lacan (2008)
quipped, “The least we can ask might be for psychoanalysts to
notice that they are poets” (p. 44), he suggests poets, who condense
thoughts, feelings, images into abbreviated, aesthetically pleasing
word combinations, work inversely to psychoanalysts.
A review of the history of conceptualizations of the unconscious
in psychoanalysis demonstrates a steady evolution in increasingly
This article is intended solely for the personal use of the individual user and is not to be disseminated broadly.
complex models of unconscious structure— up to and including
This document is copyrighted by the American Psychological Association or one of its allied publishers.
the dissolution of the idea of the individual mind altogether. Such
an unfolding developmental process brings the Hegelian (Hegel,
1807/2009) processes of thesis, antithesis, and synthesis to mind.
Hegel’s term, sublation (aufheben in German), describes how
every evolutionary step in theory development incorporates rele-
vant features of past conceptualizations. In other words, every
synthesis integrates portions of earlier theses and antitheses.
Freud’s initial topographical and tripartite models of the uncon-
scious were enhanced by Jung’s mystical, Klein/Bion’s fantastical,
Fairbairn/middle school theorists’ dynamically internal, Kohut’s
vertical, and the intersubjectivists/relationalists’ interpersonal and
transpersonal ones. Each successive conceptualization, particularly
after the introduction of the object relations models, incorporated
the loose ends from earlier theorizing. They provided models of
the unconscious comporting with, if not actually naming, dramatic
or theatrical themes. A review of pertinent psychoanalytic litera-
ture reveals multiple examples of psychoanalysts, even from dis-
parate theoretical traditions, using the phrase “internal drama” to
portray unconscious structure and dynamics.
Characters in plays or movies portray drives, motivation, affect,
even primitive unconscious mental states. The interpersonal inter-
actions digitized onto observable screens render internal uncon-
scious dynamics visible. These fictional characters—just like peo-
ple in real life— dream, repeat psycho-behavioral patterns, develop
symptoms, and display myriad other signs of the unconscious.
They exist in the context of ever-changing external relationships,
displaying a post-Cartesian (Stolorow, 2013) transcendence of the
individual mind while still, as Mills (2012) argues, showing the
influence of individual person’s unconscious themes. A more
in-depth understanding of the concept of the internal drama—and
specifically its place in psychoanalysis— offers two specific op-
portunities. First, the concept of an unconscious organized into
dramatic themes addresses efforts to achieve further unification
and cohesion in the psychoanalytic project. Although not suggest-
ing a manual-like uniformity destructive to the individualized,
unique nature of psychoanalysis, the concept of internal dramas
unites disparate theories of, and even perspectives on, the uncon-
scious. It therefore offers a vehicle for unifying the oft-warring
schools of psychoanalysis. Psychoanalysts ranging from the most
conservative Freudian to the most liberal relationalist use such
metaphors. Theatrical analogies offer a clear way to communicate
psychodynamics between clinicians with differing theoretical ori-
entations, bridging sometimes widely divergent theoretical mod-
els.
7
Second, and as the clinical examples illustrated, these theatrical
motifs encompass many varied perspectives on the unconscious—
structural, process, and even unformulated components. The
phrase, internal drama, animates the unconscious for patients. In
terms of poetics, it trumps descriptions of internal objects (which
sounds like mechanical devices), unconscious phantasies (which
fail to account for the energy driving motivation or conflict), id,
ego, or superego (which also sound mechanical), endo-psychic
structure (which requires detailed explication), or recurring pat-
terns of intersubjective transactions (which sound lifeless) or any
other such technical sounding words or phrases. Most patients
readily understand descriptions of dynamic unconscious themes in
terms of, for example, highly critical or idealized internal charac-
ters persecuting or admiring parts of ego. Further, the concept of
internal drama extends previous efforts to find a unifying nomen-
clature (Karbelnig, 2018) by illuminating a cross-theoretical met-
aphor, analogy, or motif that serves as one of many potential
means of engagement. In sum then, psychoanalysts use of models
based on dramas, narrations, and scripts— ubiquitously reported
by patients themselves—provides an effective tool for facilitating
transformation.
In medicine, the phrase, operating theater, has fallen into disuse
as high definition cameras and other presentation methods re-
placed surgical auditorium. The operating theater, in decades past,
referred to auditorium-like surgical suites that allowed medical
students to observe operations. Surgical interventions, involving
one party rendered unconscious through anesthesia, exist almost
diametrically opposed to psychoanalytic processes. Nonetheless,
and ironically, the idea of the theater of the psychoanalytic con-
sulting room remains relevant, particularly because dramatic
themes unfold instantaneously, in the inner and outside worlds,
during psychoanalytic sessions.
摘要
在全面回顾了从弗洛伊德到米切尔的无意识结构模型之后, 作者探
讨了利用对剧场或戏剧的类比来解释无意识, 如何以两种不同的方
式使精神分析项目受益:它们提供的隐喻,超越了两种长期冲突的理
论模型的差异;它们考虑到了解释的多种综合方法,其包含有无数种关
于无意识的观点。这些戏剧的类比引发了不同的观点,关于无意识的
结构、过程、动力、甚或原始的紊乱的部分到整合的故事。它们在远
距经验的概念的骨架之上,添加上了一再出现的主体间模式或非线性
动力系统。作者讨论了即便不同理论取向的精神分析学者们,如何
频繁地一致地引用“内在戏剧”的说法。她(或他)提出了三个临床例
子来说明戏剧类比的理论和临床的有用性。最后,作者的结束语综合
了本文的论述,进一步验证了这种类比有助于实现一个更为整合的、更
有内聚力的21世纪的精神分析的愿景。
关键词: 无意识, 结构, 过程, 剧场, 戏剧
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