Journal of Analytical Psychology, 2016, 61, 3, 329–349

Jung, Winnicott and the divided psyche

Mark Saban, Oxford

Abstract: In his review of Memories Dreams Reflections, Winnicott diagnosed Jung as

suffering from a psychic split, and characterized the content and the structure of
analytical psychology as primarily moulded and conditioned by Jung’s own defensive
quest for a ‘self that he could call his own’. This pathologizing analysis continues to be
endorsed by contemporary Jungian writers. In this paper I attempt to show that
Winnicott’s critique is fundamentally misguided because it derives from a
psychoanalytic model of the psyche, a model that regards all dissociation as necessarily
pathological. I argue that Jung’s understanding of the psyche differs radically from this
model, and further, that it conforms by and large to the kind of dissociative model that
we find in the writings of Frederic Myers, William James and Theodor Flournoy.
I conclude that a fruitful relationship between psychoanalysis and analytical
psychology must depend upon an awareness of these important differences between the
two psychic models.

Keywords: Winnicott, dissociation, Myers, Flournoy, Janet, multiple psyche

When Donald Winnicott wrote his famous 1964 review of Jung’s Memories
Dreams Reflections (MDR) (Jung 1989) for the International Journal of
Psychoanalysis (Winnicott 1992), he chose to focus upon Jung’s description,
in the book’s first three chapters, of what he called his ‘two personalities’.
Jung’s description of his childhood ‘dissociation’ provided Winnicott with
what he needed for a fundamental critique of analytical psychology. Although
this ‘evidence’ took clinical and personal form, the critique was intended to
work on a theoretical basis, just as it was underpinned by certain theoretical
(psychoanalytic) assumptions.
In brief, Winnicott argued that Jung’s admitted dissociation (the ‘two
personalities’) provided evidence of a childhood schizophrenia, which had left
Jung a) with no unconscious and b) engaged in a lifelong quest for a viable
self. His conclusion was that although Jung’s psychic split had doomed him
to a life spent in a ‘blind alley’ (ibid., p. 320), eventually (through the writing
of MDR), Jung achieved something resembling a ‘unit self’, as Winnicott calls
it (ibid., p. 324). Winnicott took the further step of suggesting that both the
content and the structure of analytical psychology (as Jung’s creation) are
primarily molded and conditioned by Jung’s own defensive quest for a ‘self

0021-8774/2016/6103/329 © 2016, The Society of Analytical Psychology

Published by Wiley Publishing, 9600 Garsington Road, Oxford OX4 2DQ, UK and 350 Main Street, Malden, MA 02148, USA.
DOI: 10.1111/1468-5922.12225
330 Mark Saban

that he could call his own’ (ibid., p. 327). Although Winnicott made some
attempt to temper the force of this critique with words of faint praise for
Jung, it seems quite clear that the review is a critique of analytical
psychology’s capacity to function as a universal psychotherapeutic model.
Winnicott is, however, willing to acknowledge that an acquaintance with
Jung’s writings might help ‘those with healthy unit personalities’ to achieve
empathy with ‘those [like Jung] whose divided selves give them constant
trouble’ (ibid., p. 327-28). The only use for Jungian psychology, in other
words, is that it can provide an inside view of a psyche that is suffering from
psychotic illness.
Winnicott’s apparent fascination with Jung (according to William Meredith-
Owen, he was ‘profoundly immersed in Jung’ during his last ten years
(Meredith-Owen 2011b, p. 676) and his close-reading of MDR was
conducted in the original German) seems to have been accompanied with a
barely concealed distaste for analytical psychology. His tetchy response when
exposed (at a conference on countertransference!) to Jungian terminology
was: ‘I cannot be communicated with in this language’ (Winnicott 1990, p.
159). As Donald Kalsched remarks: ‘Such a categorical dismissal …
annihilates any conversation from the beginning’ (Kalsched 2013, p. 270). In
his MDR review, Winnicott finds a different way to annihilate the
conversation by wielding the well-worn psychoanalytic blade of ad hominem
pathologizing. By means of this tool he diagnoses Jung’s psychosis, and the
consequent madness of his psychology. Then, as though aware that he has
perhaps gone too far, Winnicott writes with deceptive, though lethal,
mildness: ‘If I want to say that Jung was mad, and that he recovered, I am
doing nothing worse than I would do in saying of myself that I was sane and
that through analysis and self-analysis I achieved some measure of insanity’
(1992, p. 320). As Jeffrey Morey in a 2005 article remarks with considerable
restraint, ‘These statements do not seem equivalent to me despite his
disclaimer’ (Morey 2005, p. 340).
It is striking how many writers in the Jungian tradition, particularly in the last
30 years, seem to have been convinced by this pathologizing critique of
Winnicott. Perhaps the best examples of this tendency are the recent articles
of William Meredith-Owen (2015, 2014, 2011a, 2011b). Although his papers
undoubtedly contain a wealth of insight, when it comes to Meredith-Owen’s
analysis of Jung and of MDR it is sometimes hard to differentiate Meredith-
Owen from Winnicott. The world of Jung’s No. 2 personality, for example, is
described as an elaborate compensation for an emotional mother-lack – a
‘patched breast’ to cover what is described as ‘a “blank” and potentially
psychotic core’ (Meredith-Owen 2011b, pp. 688 & 674).
Meredith-Owen makes the interesting observation (in the same paper) that,
although in the immediate aftermath of Winnicott’s review ‘many Jungians
felt that Winnicott construed his subject’s creative achievement as nothing but
a defensive product of pathology … [since that time] the prevailing climate in
Divided psyche 331

Jungian circles has changed considerably’ (ibid., p. 677). This implies that there
has been a shift, among Jungians, from an initial knee-jerk rejection of
Winnicott’s apparent reductiveness to a more nuanced appreciation of the
validity of his insights. This despite the fact that, as Meredith-Owen points
out, Winnicott focused his comments on ‘Jung’s shadow’ and was unable to
manage ‘a fuller appreciation’ of Jung’s psychology since it ‘was simply not of
as much “use” to him’ (Meredith-Owen 2015, p. 17).
The ‘Jungian circles’ that Meredith-Owen implies are now receptive to
Winnicott’s insights do not extend to Donald Kalsched, who has in a recent
book, Trauma and the Soul (2013), launched a counter-offensive. Kalsched
takes on not only Winnicott, (‘In his pathologizing analysis of Jung’s early life
I believe that Winnicott provides us with a half-truth that both misleads us
and leaves us stranded in a one-dimensional world of all-too-familiar
psychoanalytic reductionism’ (2013, p. 245)) but also those ‘Jungian analysts
[who] strangely enough align themselves with Winnicott’ s reductive analysis’
(ibid., p. 268).
Kalsched has no problem with the idea that Jung’s retreat into the spiritual
world occurred partially as a defensive reaction to early trauma. However, he
makes an important point when he states:

it is one thing to acknowledge the use of a spiritual world in the service of defense, and
another to conclude that the inner world is only an artefact of a defensive process
emerging from early trauma in object-relations.… Such reductionism makes all
trans-personal processes in the psyche derivative of failed personal relationships, i.e.
it reduces the psyche to ‘one world’, i.e., the outer world.
(ibid., p. 268-69)

Kalsched’s prime point is that Winnicott’s approach may possess a certain one-
sided validity but to really engage with Jung we need to use what he calls
‘binocular vision’. As Kalsched puts it:

We are suspended between two worlds – one personal and material, one impersonal
(collective) and spiritual. This is our human condition and also our human
predicament. A full story of our potential wholeness-in-depth will require that we
look through both ‘eyes’ at once.
(ibid., p. 281)

I would go further: not only is this the case but it is specifically recommended in
Jung’s psychology: ‘Anyone who perceives his shadow and his light
simultaneously sees himself from two sides and thus gets in the middle’ (Jung
1959, para. 872).
It seems to me that the question here is not whether or not Winnicott’s
pathologizing argument works on its own terms. The far more important
question is whether a Winnicottian approach to the psyche has the capacity
to bring to bear a genuinely critical approach to Jungian psychology at all. In
order to find an answer to this question what is needed is a more nuanced
332 Mark Saban

understanding of the nature of the relationship between ‘Winnicott’ and ‘Jung’

than seems readily available.
There seems to me to be more at stake in this question than any of the
commentators, including Kalsched, have hitherto made visible. I think we can
do better than merely pit Winnicott’s words against Jung’s. Whether or not
Meredith-Owen is correct when he states that Winnicott’s review of MDR is
‘an inexhaustible source of insight into both men’ (Meredith-Owen 2014, p. 4),
what seems certain is that it has a great deal to offer as a source of insight into
the theoretical differences between two quite distinct psychic models. It is on
this level that I intend to locate my argument.
What has hitherto occluded this question, apart from a persistent
determination to personalize the issue, has been an unspoken assumption
with regard to the relationship between Jungian psychology and
psychoanalysis (here in its object-relations incarnation). This assumption is
clearly visible in Meredith-Owen’s suggestion that Jung’s clinical practice (and
by extension the metapsychology that structures that practice) would have
been quite different had ‘Jung had access to what we are now able to take for
granted – for instance the centrality of the concept of container/contained and
its roots in maternal reverie’ (Meredith-Owen 2011b, p. 683).
From the context, it would seem that ‘what we are now able to take for
granted’ should be regarded as more or less coextensive with ‘the truths
revealed by object relations theory’. The fundamental suggestion is then
that if one adds ‘the truths revealed by object relations theory’ to
‘Jungian psychology’ then the latter is brought up to date and thereby
improved. What for Meredith-Owen gives Winnicott’s words more weight
than Jung’s is the fact that ‘Winnicott [unlike Jung] could draw on the
insights arising from child analysis pioneered by Klein and brought to
bear on extended clinical work with borderline patients by Rosenfeld,
Bion, and others’ (ibid.).
There are several questionable assumptions contained in this idea, but the one
I most want to draw attention to is the idea that Jungian psychology, as a
system, is, as it were, sufficiently anatomically similar to psychoanalysis (in its
object relations variety) for it to be able to accept organ donations of this
kind without a catastrophic and indeed life-threatening outcome. Morey
made much the same point in a 2005 JAP article, with this pregnant
rhetorical question: ‘Does the integration of these theories [Jungian and
Object Relations] maintain a coherent sensibility or does such a combination
violate fundamental underlying assumptions?’ (Morey 2005, p. 335).

The question of dissociation

As we have seen, the issue on which Winnicott chooses to focus his argument in
his review of MDR is that of dissociation, and specifically Jung’s childhood
dissociation as represented in his description of his ‘two personalities’. As we
Divided psyche 333

have also seen, Winnicott pathologizes this dissociation as a ‘splitting of the

personality’ and states that Jung possessed a ‘split personality’ (Winnicott
1992, p. 324), a diagnosis which somehow succeeds in combining clinical
gravity with total imprecision. Since Winnicott places such weight upon this
issue, it is particularly important for us to pay close attention to what Jung
himself has to say about his two personalities:

The play and counterplay between personalities No. 1 and No. 2, which has run
through my whole life, has nothing to do with a ‘split’ or dissociation in the
ordinary medical sense. On the contrary, it is played out in every individual.

(Jung and Jaffé, 1989, p. 45)

Jung is making a prescient though ultimately doomed attempt to forestall any

future pathologizing before it begins, with a categorical insistence that the
dynamic relationship between his two personalities should by no means be
regarded as a sign of mental illness. But what is far more interesting, and far
more important, is his further claim that such a dynamic is common to us all:
‘It is played out in every individual’. It should also be noted that Jung is
putting the emphasis not upon the fact of the two personalities, but upon the
relationship between them. As we shall see, this is a crucially important
emphasis.
It is particularly striking that Winnicott (and his later sympathizers) generally
ignore this remark of Jung’s.1 I would suggest that this is because it simply does
not fit with their theoretical preconceptions with regard to the dynamics and
topology of the psyche.
In his review of MDR, the ideas that Winnicott appears to take for granted
are these: first, that any healthy psyche will be by definition unitary (or as he
describes it a ‘unit psyche’) and, second (what follows from this), that the sole
function of the unconscious is to serve as a location in which to deposit
whatever the ‘unit psyche’ needs to repress:

Whatever Freud was, he had a unit personality, with a place in him for his
unconscious. Jung was different. It is not possible for a split personality to have an
unconscious, because there is no place for it to be. Like our florid schizophrenic
patients … Jung knew truths that are unavailable to most men and women. But he
spent his life looking for a place to keep his inner psychic reality, although the task
was indeed an impossible one.
(Winnicott 1992, p. 324)

Winnicott evidently discerns a fundamental incompatibility not only between

Jung’s personal psychology and that of Freud, but, by extension, between the

1
An exception is Meredith-Owen who quotes the first sentence, though not the second. He notes
Jung’s reluctance to accept a diagnosis of pathological dissociation but dismisses it on the
grounds that ‘the text, indeed the very texture, of Memories, Dreams, Reflections makes it hard
for us to accept Jung’s disinclination to describe himself as dissociated’ (2011b, p. 676).
334 Mark Saban

psychologies that they were responsible for creating. His articulation of the
nature of that difference seems accurate as far as it goes, in that he implicitly
locates the gap between them in a fundamental disagreement about the nature
and function of the unconscious. For Winnicott (and for Winnicott’s Freud),
the unconscious is a place for what gets repressed. As he emphasizes:

The psychoanalyst would sacrifice essential values were he to give up Freud’s various
meanings for the word unconscious, including the concept of the repressed
unconscious. It is not possible to conceive of a repressed unconscious with a split
mind; instead what is found is dissociation.
(ibid., p.325)

In other words, if one accepts Freud’s repression-based model of the psyche, the
only alternative to the possession of a ‘unit personality’ is pathological
dissociation. What Winnicott does not seem to be able to entertain (and this
also explains his inability to hear Jung’s statement about the non-pathological
nature of the ‘play and counterplay’ between his two personalities), is the
notion that Jung is expressing not merely a symptom of his ‘childhood
schizophrenia’ but rather a fully-fledged alternative model of the psyche and
of its dynamics. This model is moreover radically and fundamentally different
from the one Winnicott assumes to be self-evidently correct. Winnicott’s
blank refusal to take Jung’s statement seriously might perhaps be convincing
if Jung was opportunistically using MDR in order to improvise a plausible
cover for the evidently pathological effects of the ‘split personality’ he is
about to describe. This is, however, not the case. Not only are Jung’s
comments on his two personalities entirely consistent with all aspects of his
mature psychology, but the particular model of the psyche that Jung is
proposing here (a multiple psyche that exists in the dynamic interplay
between ego consciousness, and other autonomous consciousnesses,
personalities or sub-personalities) was a model with a perfectly respectable
historical provenance that had for a time been sufficiently intellectually
powerful for Freud himself to have felt the need to fight it tooth and nail
(Keeley 2001).2

2
That this interpretation should have been written by a psychoanalyst in 1964 is perhaps
unsurprising. At that time the psychoanalytic understanding of the psyche had been all but
unchallenged within therapeutic circles since the early 1920s (for all its undoubted twists, turns
and re-inventions during this period), and it must have seemed as though any alternative models
of the psyche (all too real in the years 1900 to 1918 during which Freud unquestionably saw
them as serious rivals to his own model) were to be recalled only as intellectual curiosities, to the
extent that they were remembered at all. As early as 1929, as eminent American dissociationist
Morton Prince memorably described it, ‘Freudian psychology had flooded the field like a full
rising tide and the rest of us were left submerged like clams buried in the sands at low water’
(Borch-Jacobsen and Shamdasani 2011, p. 300)
Divided psyche 335

To elucidate this question of dissociation and its place in Jungian psychology,

I intend to take a look at those ideas about the psyche and its structure that were
influences upon Jung during the crucial period 1900 to 1918 and contributed in
different ways to the psychic model he was eventually to embrace. I shall
distinguish three theoretical approaches to dissociation, a topic that was hotly
debated in this period, although it was to become all but ignored in the post-
war period during which Freudian psychoanalytic ideas were to become
hegemonic.3 These three theoretical approaches (none of which is monolithic,
but each of which I shall treat for the sake of argument as a more or less
unified set of ideas) are: 1) that of Myers, James and Flournoy; 2) that of Janet
and the ‘French school’; and 3) that of Freud.
My thesis is that Jung’s psychology should be regarded as operating by and
large according to a quite different model of the psyche from that which we
find in the psychoanalytic tradition. I also maintain that it is critically
different from the model we find in Janet. It is most consistently similar to the
model we find in Myers, James, and Flournoy.
It seems to me that what amounted to an intentional and deliberate
suppression of both dissociation models by the early psychoanalysts has given
way to a period of forgetful ignorance, even in Jungian discourse, such that
Jung’s own heavy debts to those models have been rendered mostly invisible.
The result has been profound confusion about the nature of Jung’s
psychology, a confusion frequently evidenced in the writings of many
contemporary Jungians. This point is not original – my work here depends
upon the careful and persuasive scholarship of, for example, Ellenberger
(2008), Taylor (1998, 1996, 1986, 1980), Shamdasani (2003, 2002, 2000,
1999, 1998, 1994, 1993) and Haule (1986, 1984, 1983).

The dissociationist tradition

During the late 19th century intra-psychic conflict was conceptualized in hugely
varied ways, as we should expect given the various heterogeneous models of the
psyche and its workings that were entertained in this period. The victory and
subsequent hegemony of Freud’s psychoanalytic model(s), combined with the
wide acceptance of a heroic narrative whereby Freud single-handedly
‘discovered’ the unconscious, along with an assumption that a topology of the
psyche mapped out with the aid of a psychoanalytic compass is the only
viable or even possible alternative within depth psychology, have all conspired
to consign rival psychological models to the dustbin of intellectual history. In
terms of analytical psychology, these assumptions have also led to the further
assumption that, however eccentric Jung’s psychology might appear in detail,
his model of the psyche must, on a fundamental level, be consistent with that

3
In recent years for various reasons it has achieved visibility again, and with it has come a major
reassessment of the work of Janet.
336 Mark Saban

of the psychoanalytic tradition. This assumption seems, as we have seen, not

only to have underpinned Winnicott’s comments but, more crucially, to have
licensed the wholesale grafting of various post-Freudian limbs onto the body
of Jung’s psychology by Fordham and the so-called London school of
Jungians after the second world war.
In fact, Jung’s psychology is heavily indebted to traditions that were quite
foreign to that of Freud and psychoanalysis. In particular, Pierre Janet in
France, Frederic Myers in England, William James in the USA and Theodor
Flournoy in Switzerland elaborated models of the psyche and of psychic life
that, for all their variations, cohered in one important point: the fundamental
dissociability of the psyche.
Jung’s comments in MDR characterizing dissociation as something that is
‘played out in every individual’ were written in extreme old age. However,
one can trace the presence of comparable ideas at least as far back as his
doctoral dissertation, ‘On the psychology and pathology of so-called occult
phenomena’ (Jung 1902). Jung identified the various figures conjured up by
the unconscious of the medium (his teenaged cousin) as split-off aspects of her
psyche. According to Jung, the medium led ‘a real “double life” with two
personalities existing side by side or in succession, each continually striving
for mastery’ (ibid., para. 44). His tentative conclusion was that such a
development is not necessarily pathological; it may have had a teleological
character, since it is ‘conceivable that the phenomena of double consciousness
are simply new character formations, or attempts of the future personality to
break through’ (para. 136).
That Jung should have reached such a conclusion is by no means surprising
given the contemporary intellectual context. Indeed, it was entirely consistent
with ideas to be easily found in the works of various psychologists who were
influences on Jung’s work at this time, and particularly Théodore Flournoy.
In his book From India to the Planet Mars (Flournoy 2015), Flournoy
presented medium Hélène Smith as a case of multiple personality. Such a case
lent weight to the earlier contention of William James (a close friend of
Flournoy’s) that ‘Mediumistic possession in all its grades seems to form a
perfectly natural special type of alternate personality’ (James 1890, p. 393).
James and Flournoy emphasized that in ‘normal’ life the medium exhibited a
healthy consciousness, and concluded therefore that certain kinds or levels of
multiple or dissociated personality might occur in the non-pathological
psyche. At the very least, it opened up the possibility that a level of
dissociation might be consistent with psychological normality.
This very question divided psychologists of the period, even amongst those
for whom dissociation was an evident psychic reality. On the whole the
French psychopathologists, like Pierre Janet, argued that the medium was a
pathological type. Janet’s underlying assumption was that the symptoms of
dissociation always indicated some kind of pathology. Indeed, Janet went so
far as to suggest that since a healthy consciousness was entirely unitary,
Divided psyche 337

subconscious (i.e. unconscious) processes simply could not occur in healthy

people (Wright 1997). Janet presented thorough and detailed case histories in
which, with the help of hypnosis, he invariably traced his patients’ symptoms
back to a traumatic event that had been forgotten by the primary conscious
personality. The trauma had, in effect, split the psyche into two (or more)
personalities, each of which possessed some kind of consciousness. It was
nonetheless possible for the therapist to gain access to the ‘subconscious’
personality through hypnosis, dreams, automatic writing etc., and thereby
achieve the therapeutic goal of helping the patient regain the unity of
consciousness that was proper to a healthy psyche.
Flournoy and his colleagues Myers and James found Janet’s carefully
observed data invaluable since it provided a plentiful supply of cases
exhibiting psychic dissociation. However, when it came to hypothesizing
about what they regarded as the productive and creative aspects of a multiple
psyche, Flournoy and his friends found themselves in disagreement quite as
much with Janet as they were with Freud.
Frederic Myers and William James were active members of the Society for
Psychical Research, a British organization that had been set up (in 1882) to
conduct scientific investigation of the claims of spiritualism, but which had
rapidly extended its experiments and researches into the related fields of
hauntings, clairvoyance, precognitive dreams and telepathy (a word coined by
Myers in 1882 (1882, p. 147)). In fact, Myers was probably the first person
to suggest in print that a separate state of consciousness could exist
simultaneously alongside normal consciousness, a hypothesis that emerged
from his extensive researches into the phenomenon of automatic writing. As
early as 1885 he coined the term ‘secondary self’, a term later taken up by
Janet (Myers 1885, p. 27). Inspired by Janet’s success in achieving
experimental corroboration of these secondary selves in hysterics in 1886,
Myers’s colleague Edmund Gurney began a series of highly successful
experiments on ordinary subjects. In the light of this work, William James
confidently stated that what had been demonstrated was ‘the simultaneous
existence of two different strata of consciousness, ignorant of each other, in
the same person’ (James 1892, p. 688). Multiplicity of personality was not in
itself a new phenomenon but what was new in the work of Myers, Gurney
and Janet was confirmation of the presence of secondary selves that acted
simultaneously with the primary self (or ego).
Myers’s theory of the ‘subliminal’ psyche rejects the idea of a unitary
consciousness, and instead suggests that the psyche has a ‘composite… character’
(1903a, p. 9). For Myers the ordinary everyday self ‘does not comprise the whole
of the consciousness or of the faculty within us’, since, below the threshold of
normal consciousness there exist ‘subliminal Selves’ (ibid., p. 14). The unity of the
psyche is therefore ‘federative and unstable’ (ibid., p. 16). This emphasis upon the
‘disintegrative’ aspect of psyche should nonetheless be kept in tension with
Myers’ equally emphatic vision of the Self as a ‘profoundly unitary’ whole (ibid.,
338 Mark Saban

p. 34). While much of this is consistent with Janet’s findings, Myers goes much
further than Janet in his suggestions: a) that a measure of dissociation is to be
found in the normal psyche; b) that ‘the normal or primary self’ (i.e. the ego) ‘is
not necessarily superior in any other respect to the latent personalities [or
subliminal selves] which lie alongside it’ (1888, p. 387); and that c) these
subliminal selves can and do gain access to wider ranges of information and
faculty than the ego (which Myers calls the supraliminal or empirical self: the self
of common experience (1891, p. 305)).
The evident similarities between Myers’s and Jung’s depiction of the psyche
probably indicate a direct influence,4 though as Shamdasani says, even if Jung
were not under the direct influence of Myers, ‘it would have been impossible
for Jung to have been significantly influenced by Flournoy … without also
taking on board fundamental aspects of the work of Myers’ (2000, p. 462).
Parallels are to be found in three crucial areas:

1 The unconscious is assumed to contain what Myers described as a

‘mythopoeic’ faculty (1903b, p. 5), which ‘constantly produces
fantasies, stories, poetic images, and other spontaneous creations’
(Crabtree 2009, p. 356). This faculty is responsible not only for dreams
and visions, but also for the sub-personalities that are created and
enacted in mediumistic trance and elsewhere. This dimension of
Myers’s psychology was taken up and developed by Flournoy,
particularly in From India to the Planet Mars (Ellenberger 2008, pp.
315-18).
2 Intimately related to the this mythopoeic faculty is the prospective
character of the unconscious, which we also find in Myers and
Flournoy (Witzig 1982, p. 138ff).
3 The (normal) psyche is dissociated: we possess, apart from our
‘supraliminal’ ego consciousness, other consciousnesses, which show up
in the form of mediumistic trance personalities, automatic writing,
and (in pathological form) multiple personalities and hysterical
sub-personalities.

It is the third of these areas which concerns me here, although it should be

borne in mind that in Myers, Flournoy and James all three areas are
intertwined, as indeed they are in Jung’s psychology.

Jung the dissociationist

As I have indicated, most commentators, including most Jungian
commentators, have assumed that, after a brief period as a Flournoyan
4
There are numerous alternative possible linkages and common sources, such as romantic thinkers
such as Carl Gustav Carus (1789-1869). In the case of Myers this influence would have arrived via
his profound knowledge of the English romantic poets, especially Wordsworth and Coleridge.
Divided psyche 339

dissociationist (up to and including the writing of his doctoral dissertation), by

the time of his 1909 book on Dementia Praecox, Jung was fully aligned with
psychoanalytic ideas, and therefore later differences between Jung’s
psychology and that of Freud consisted in effect of greater or smaller
divergences from the psychoanalytic model.
According to this narrative, Jung’s mature psychology, however much it
varied from orthodox psychoanalysis, still rested upon a psychoanalytic
metapsychology. An alternative approach, popular with adherents of the
‘classical’ or ‘archetypal’ Jungian schools, has been to declare analytical
psychology to be sui generis, having sprung fully formed out of Jung’s midlife
‘confrontation with the unconscious’. One can find support for both positions
within Jung’s own writings. What few (e.g. Shamdasani, Taylor and Haule)
have taken seriously is the idea that one can best illuminate important aspects
of Jung’s mature psychology by considering it as a development of certain
strains of late 19th century dissociationist psychology. This is the hypothesis
that I wish to entertain seriously here.
While the writings from Jung’s pre-Freud period cite and show intellectual
debts to the French and British dissociationists, from the time of his first
letters to Freud Jung clearly wishes his readers (and above all Freud himself)
to consider him a devotee of psychoanalysis. He therefore includes numerous
laudatory references to Freud and his works.
However, even during the period when Jung himself was writing papers which
overtly aligned his work with that of Freud, as Haule notes, ‘the careful reader
discovers only the loosest connection between these articles and the
contemporary works of Freud’ (Haule 1984, p. 648). What Jung and Freud
share is a recognition of the potential for unconscious contents to disrupt and
disturb ego consciousness. From this point of view the complexes that Jung has
identified in his word association experiments seem broadly co-extensive with
Freud’s parapraxes, and were presumably taken as such by Freud. However,
this fact should not obscure important differences between the two. For
example, as Haule points out, in Jung’s work, ‘there is nothing to indicate that
sexuality determines all complexes or lurks “latently” behind the “manifest”
responses of the patient. Rather Jung takes the responses quite literally’ (ibid.).
Jung seems to have been attracted to the idea of the complex precisely because it
allowed for the possibility of autonomous sub-personalities which, under certain
circumstances, could momentarily possess the subject in ways that paralleled, in a
rather less dramatic form, the behaviour of the alters of multiple personality.
As Haule puts it, in these writings ‘[t]he image guiding Jung’s thought is that
of multiple, simultaneously active, subpersonalities’ (ibid.).
This idea remained important to Jung long after he had lost interest in the Word
Association experiment. In his mature writings Jung often made a point of
emphasizing the core importance of his work on complexes, and he would tend
to do so particularly when discussing the psyche’s innate tendency to
dissociation. In a 1934 paper reviewing the complex theory, for example, he
340 Mark Saban

clarifies the link between his writings on complexes and the work of Janet, Prince
and other dissociationists (1934, para. 202), pointing out that ‘fundamentally
there is no difference in principle between a fragmentary personality and a
complex’ (ibid.). ‘The existence of complexes’ as Jung puts it, ‘throws serious
doubt on the naïve assumption of the unity of consciousness…’ (ibid., para. 200).
In his ‘Psychological factors determining human behaviour’ (1936), Jung
discusses complexes in a paragraph devoted to ‘the psyche’s tendency to split’,
which he describes as ‘fundamentally … a normal phenomenon’ (ibid., para.
253). Jung reminds us of his early affiliation with the dissociationists when he
goes on to characterize complexes as behaving ‘like independent beings’, and
to not only equate them to ‘the voices heard by the insane’ but to directly
evoke the Myersian tradition by pointing out that they can ‘take on a
personal ego-character like that of the spirits who manifest themselves
through automatic writing and similar techniques’ (ibid.).
Significantly, Jung goes on to point out in the 1936 paper mentioned above that
it is the dissociability of the psyche that offers ‘the possibility of change and
differentiation’ (para. 255). For Jung, not only is the splitness of the psyche
perfectly normal, it is this very splitness that enables the psyche to self-regulate
because it creates the very conditions that are necessary for the correction of
one-sidedness. We can see this process in action in Jung’s encounters with the
autonomous figures of the objective psyche during the so-called confrontation
with the unconscious, the encounters which Jung recounts in the Red Book.
According to MDR, Jung learns from these encounters that ‘there is something
in me which can say things that I do not know and do not intend, things which
may even be directed against me’ (Jung and Jaffé, 1989, p. 183). It is clear from
the context that it is the one-sidedness of Jung’s ego perspective which
necessitates this painful process of correction: ‘Whenever the outlines of a new
personification appeared, I felt it almost as a personal defeat’ (ibid.).
Jung goes on to develop these ideas into a therapeutic technique by suggesting
that though the psyche’s spontaneous tendency to manifest in personified form
is important, at least as important is the reciprocal intention (of the conscious
ego) to shape hitherto inchoate unconscious events through an imaginative
process of personification:

The essential thing is to differentiate oneself from these unconscious contents by

personifying them, and at the same time to bring them into relationship with
consciousness. That is the technique for stripping them of their power. It is not too
difficult to personify them, as they always possess a certain degree of autonomy, a
separate identity of their own. Their autonomy is a most uncomfortable thing to
reconcile oneself to, and yet the very fact that the unconscious presents itself in that
way gives us the best means of handling it.
(ibid., p. 187)

As Craig Stephenson points out in a comment on this passage, the aim here is
for the ego-complex to be able to ‘experience the autonomy of the
Divided psyche 341

unconscious complex as a splinter psyche and eventually reconcile itself to the

contradictions inherent in psychic reality through a personified confrontation
and meeting’ (Stephenson 2009, p. 166). What Jung is implying is that,
one-sided though the ego inevitably is, if it possesses sufficient awareness and
sufficient humility it can seek out a dialogical encounter with its own other,
thus intentionally constellating inherent contradictions within the psyche, or,
to put it another way, facilitating what Jung likes to describe as the meeting
of opposites. It is evident that however conflictual such an encounter may
seem, it may and should be brought about by a twin-pronged reciprocal
movement. The willing ego, possessed of something resembling Keats’s
‘negative capability’, will partly find and partly create those persons of the
unconscious who also seek, as it were, to be encountered.
These ideas are evidently in direct conflict with a psychoanalytic model for
which dissociation occurs only in the pathological form of repression – unless
it is a symptom of psychosis. In old age, Jung insisted that it was in fact
Freud’s exclusive insistence upon the mechanism of repression (as opposed to
dissociation) that provided the initial bone of contention between the two
men. In the 1957 interviews with Richard Evans, Jung says, in the context of
a discussion of the word association experiments:

That was my first point of difference with Freud. I said there were cases in my
observation where there was no repression from above, but the thing itself is true.
Those contents that became unconscious had withdrawn all by themselves, they
were not repressed. On the contrary, they have a certain autonomy. I discovered the
concept of autonomy because these contents that disappear have the power to move
independently of my will.
(Jung 1987, p. 283)

As Shamdasani remarks:

It is somewhat ironic that Jung cites as his first divergence from Freud, the issue over
which the supposed similarity between his association experiments and psychoanalysis
was made, and through which the former was supposed to provide experimental
confirmation of the latter.
(Shamdasani 1998, pp. 120-21)

The splitting dream

I hope that by focusing upon the issue of dissociation I have clarified the crucial
differences between the Jungian model of the psyche and that of Freud and
psychoanalysis. It would of course be wrong to depict the latter as in any way
monolithic. During Freud’s lifetime it underwent important changes and since
his death many more, including those that resulted in object relations theory.
Nonetheless, when it came to the particular question of dissociation, as we
can see very clearly in Winnicott’s interpretation of MDR, nothing of any real
342 Mark Saban

substance had changed. In effect, for Freud or for Winnicott, there could be only
two possibilities: psychotic dissociation or ordinary neurotic repression. Since
Jung’s descriptions of the two personalities did not fit the latter the only
possible diagnosis was the former.
When it comes to Winnicott’s engagement with Jung however, it turned out
that the MDR review was by no means his last word. Winnicott’s
unconscious still had something to offer on the subject. In the wake of the
review’s completion he had, he reported to Michael Fordham, a dream, the
content of which he explicitly associated to Jung: ‘I was also aware as the
dream flowed over me before I quite became awake that I was dreaming a
dream for Jung and for some of my patients, as well as for myself’ (Winnicott
1989, p. 229). This dream has, in recent years, become in turn the subject of
extensive commentary in the JAP – first by Morey (2005), then by Sedgwick
(2008) and more recently by Meredith-Owen (2011a, 2011b, 2015). I do
not have the space here to review these fascinating commentaries. I do,
however, want to add a brief note on the dream in the light of what I have
written above emphasizing the severe theoretical tensions between the
Winnicottian and the Jungian model of the psyche.
Winnicott’s dream is in three parts:

1 There was absolute destruction, and I was part of the world and of all
people, and therefore I was being destroyed…
2 Then there was absolute destruction and I was the destructive agent….
3 Part three now appeared and in the dream I awakened. As I awakened I
knew I had dreamed both (1) and (2). I had therefore solved the problem,
by using the difference between waking and sleeping states.

Here was I awake, in the dream, and I knew I had dreamed of being destroyed and of
being the destroying agent. There was no dissociation, so the three I’s were altogether
in touch with each other. I remember dreaming I(2) and I(1). This felt to be immensely
satisfactory although the work done had made tremendous demands on me…
I now began to wake up.
What I first knew was that I had a very severe headache. I could see my head split right
through, with a black gap between the right and left halves. I found the words
‘splitting headache’ coming and waking me up, and I caught on to the
appropriateness of the description…
While I lay enduring the headache the whole dream came to me, and along with this
the feeling that I now knew an important meaning of the number three. I had these
three essential selves, I(3) that could remember dreaming in turn of being I(2) and I
(1). Without I(3) I must remain split…

(Winnicott 1989, p. 229)

Like all ‘big dreams’ if not all dreams, Winnicott’s lends itself to many possible
interpretations. My own feeling, following Jung’s ideas about the self-regulating
psyche and dreams as compensations, is that the event of such a striking, not to
Divided psyche 343

say shattering, dream implies that some kind of major compensatory psychic
movement was constellated in Winnicott – the kind of movement that might be
necessary to correct a serious one-sidedness in his conscious attitude. I would
suggest that the single-minded attitude in question had been powerfully
exemplified in his review of MDR, and had taken the form of a dogmatic
blindness to Jung’s own interpretation of the meaning and context of the two
personalities. In fact, as we have seen, Winnicott failed even to acknowledge
Jung’s claim that they represented an un-pathological form of dissociation, in
which the dynamic play and counterplay between two ‘personalities’ ultimately
enabled the process of individuation – the movement toward the Self. Winnicott’s
doctrinaire theoretical commitment to the ‘unit-self’ and the repression model,
combined with an incapacity for a ‘fuller appreciation’ of Jung’s psychology
(Meredith-Owen 2015, p. 17), left no room for such dissociationist dynamics.
His theoretical assumptions rendered them invisible to him.
Winnicott explicitly linked the event of this dream to his continuing engagement
with Jung and dissociation, even after the review had been written. Might this
imply a level of on-going dissatisfaction with his earlier treatment of the topic of
dissociation as it appeared in the review? Some of this dissatisfaction could well
have been related to the fact that Winnicott, who within the review had made
much of the contrast between his own possession of a healthy ‘unit-self’ with
Jung’s unhealthy ‘split personality’, had a bad conscience, since in reality, we
are told, he ‘had suffered all his life’ from a dissociation that ‘his personal
analysis had not resolved’ (Sedgwick 2008, p. 543).
Winnicott’s dream makes no sense if we approach it from the perspective of
Winnicottian ‘unit-self’ and repression dynamics. Winnicott speaks about ‘three
essential selves’, first the self as destroyed, second the self as destroyer and third
the self as mediator between selves 1 and 2. Without the third self he ‘must
remain split’ – between selves 1 and 2 which seem unable to relate on their
own. As he describes it, this produces a state in which ‘there was no
dissociation so the three I’s were altogether in touch with each other’.
According to his own theoretical assumptions, a non-dissociated state should
be equivalent to the ‘unit-self’, yet here the achievement of wholeness seems to
possess a quite different character: the ‘three selves’ remain separate and do
not fuse into unit status; in fact, their persistent state of separation is
emphasized: ‘I had these three essential selves’. Moreover, the image he was left
with was that of a ‘head split right through, with a black gap between the right
and left halves’. Crucially, the overcoming of (pathological) dissociation in the
dream appears to be achieved not (as we might expect from Winnicott’s
conscious theoretical assumptions) through some kind of fusion into a unitary
state by means of the release of a repressed element, but by the ability of the
three ‘essential selves’ to remain separate and yet be ‘in touch with each other’.
Meredith-Owen seeks to amplify the dynamic of the dream by linking it to
Matte Blanco’s so-called bi-logic (Meredith-Owen 2011a). However
illuminating such an amplification may ultimately prove, if we stay with the
344 Mark Saban

associations of the dreamer – and it is Winnicott himself who strongly

emphasizes the Jungian context of the dream – the dynamic model presented
in the dream seems to have far more in common with that of Jungian
psychology than with that of psychoanalysis in either classical Freudian,
Object Relations or indeed bi-logical form.
Jung’s presenting problem as described in the early chapters of MDR is that
his two personalities pull in directly opposite directions: for example, Jung
describes personality 1 as active and personality 2 as passive. This is
experienced as a feeling of splitness: he finds himself occupying first one
then the other, but neither personality on its own, divorced from its own
other, leaves the young Jung with a sense of integrated forward movement.
It is only when he finally finds a way to bring the two personalities into
conscious contact with each other, despite the difficult tension between
them, that he can achieve a third, syzygic state which somehow harnesses
the two. So, for example, when Jung lights upon the profession of
psychiatry, which brings personality 1’s empirical, scientific bent together
with personality 2’s fascination with the interiority of the soul, he is filled
with enormous excitement: ‘Here alone the two currents of my interest
could flow together and in a united stream dig their own bed’ (Jung &
Jaffé 1989, p. 109).
This point leads me into direct disagreement with Meredith-Owen’s reading of
MDR. Meredith-Owen claims that Jung’s ‘descriptions [in MDR] of “the play
and counterplay” … do not describe a gradual integration so much as an
ongoing bewilderment at remaining torn between basing his identity in either
No. 1 or No. 2’ (Meredith-Owen 2014, p. 9). Gradual or not, Jung clearly
points to key moments of integration in the text of MDR. These reach a
climax in his response to the important ‘storm lantern’ dream (Jung & Jaffé
1989, pp. 87-88): a conscious acceptance that both personalities are not only
essential but are intimately intertwined. Of course, the earlier sections of MDR
attest eloquently to periods of ‘bewilderment at remaining torn’ between the
two personalities, but this state gives way, first to a painful awareness that he
is, in a sense, both personalities, and finally to a realization that to truly
become himself (i.e. individuate) and to live from his whole psyche, he will
have to find ways to hold the tension between them through constant
negotiation. This is the ‘third self’ of Winnicott’s dream – a mediating self that
consciously holds together both self 1 and self 2 – which manifest as opposites.
In MDR Jung eventually achieves a wry acceptance that ‘[t]he opposites and
the contradictions between them do not vanish … even when for a moment
they yield before the impulse to action. They constantly threaten the unity of
the personality, and entangle life again and again in their dichotomies’ (1989,
p. 346). This acceptance, that there can be no final, once-and-for-all state of
integration, is evidence, not of the ‘bewilderment’ of a recovering psychotic,
but of the humility of a man whose hard-won, and deeply sane, wisdom has
been gained in the face of relentless psychic reality.
Divided psyche 345

Conclusion
The single necessary condition for any healthy relationship is a clear awareness
of the fundamental differences between the two partners; fusion, and especially
unconscious fusion, is always an obstacle to relatedness. This is particularly true
of the relationship between Jungian psychology and psychoanalysis. I would
therefore argue that my conclusions, by casting light on genuine differences
between the two traditions, further the possibility of any such relationship in
the future. I am aware that this idea puts me in direct conflict with those who
agree with Michael Fordham’s famous description of the split between Freud
and Jung as ‘a disaster, and in part an illusion, from which we suffer and will
continue to do so until we have repaired the damage’ (1961, p. 167). But only
a single entity can split; Freud and Jung never formed that kind of unit. As I
hope I have shown, their psychic models were, from the beginning,
fundamentally different. It is only when we have accepted this that we can
begin to discover what the fruits might be of a real relationship between the two.

TRANSLATIONS OF ABSTRACT

Dans sa critique de « Ma Vie », Winnicott a diagnostiqué Jung comme souffrant d’un

clivage et a dépeint le contenu et la structure de la psychologie analytique comme étant
essentiellement façonnés et conditionnés par la quête défensive de Jung pour « un soi
qu’il pourrait nommer le sien ». Les auteurs Jungiens contemporains continuent à
souscrire à cette analyse pathologisante. Dans cet article, je tente de montrer que la
critique de Winnicott est fondamentalement malencontreuse parce qu’elle provient
d’un modèle psychanalytique de la psyché, modèle qui considère toute dissociation
comme nécessairement pathologique. Je soutiens que la compréhension qu’a Jung de la
psyché diffère radicalement de ce modèle, et de plus, que ce modèle est conforme dans
les grandes lignes au type de modèle de la dissociation que l’on trouve dans les écrits
de Frederic Myers, William James et Theodor Flournoy. Je tire la conclusion qu’une
relation fructueuse entre la psychanalyse et la psychologie analytique doit s’appuyer
sur une conscience des différences importantes dans ces deux modèles de la psyché.

Mots clés: Winnicott, dissociation, Myers, James, Flournoy, Janet, psyché multiple

In seiner Rezension von ‘Erinnerungen, Träume, Gedanken’ attestiert Winnicott Jung ein
Leiden an einer seelischen Spaltung und charakterisiert Inhalt und Struktur der
Analytischen Psychologie als primär gestaltet durch Jungs eigene defensive Suche nach
‘einem Selbst, das er sein eigen nennen konnte’. Dieser pathologisierenden Analyse
wird bis heute von Jungianischen Autoren beigepflichtet. In diesem Artikel versuche
ich zu zeigen, daß Winnicotts Kritik fundamental in die Irre geht, da ihr ein
psychoanalytisches Modell der Psyche zugrunde liegt, ein Modell, welches alle
Dissoziationen als notwendig pathologisch betrachtet. Ich behaupte, daß sich Jungs
346 Mark Saban

Auffassung von der Psyche radikal von diesem Modell unterscheidet und weiter, daß es
im Großen und Ganzen dem dissoziativen Modell entspricht, welches wir in den
Schriften von Frederic Myers, William James und Theodor Flournoy vorfinden. Ich
folgere, daß eine fruchtbare Beziehung zwischen Psychoanalyse und Analytischer
Psychologie auf dem Bewußthalten dieser wichtigen Unterschiede zwischen den beiden
Modellen der Psyche basieren muß

Schlüsselwörter: Winnicott, Dissoziation, Myers, Flournoy, Janet, multiple Psyche

Nella sua lettura di Sogni, Ricordi, Riflessioni, Winnicott diagnostica in Jung una
dissociazione psichica, che caratterizzerebbe il contenuto e la struttura della psicologia
analitica come condizionati dalla ricerca difensiva dello stesso Jung per un “sé che
potesse dirsi il suo”. Questa analisi patologizzante continua ad essere avallata da
diversi autori junghiani contemporanei. In questo articolo tento di dimostrare come la
critica di Winnicott sia fondamentalmente sbagliata, poiché derivante da un modello
della psiche psicoanalitico, che considera qualsiasi dissociazione come patologica. Io
invece sostengo che la comprensione della psiche di Jung differisce radicalmente da
questo modello, e, inoltre, che si conforma pervasivamente con il modello dissociativo
di Frederic Myers, William James e Theodor Flournoy. Concludo sostenendo che un
fruttoso rapporto tra la psicoanalisi e la psicologia analitica deve necessariamente
dipendere dalla consapevolezza di queste differenze fondamentali tra i due modelli
della psiche

Parole chiave: Winnicott, dissociazione, Myers, James, Flournoy, Janet, psiche multipla

В своем обзоре «Воспоминаний, сновидений, размышлений» Винникотт

диагностировал Юнга как страдающего от психического расщепления и
охарактеризовал содержание и структуру аналитической психологии как
изначально сформированную и обусловленную собственными (и имеющими
защитную природу) поисками Юнга того «себя, которого он мог бы назвать
собой». Этот патологизирующий анализ продолжает поддерживаться
современными юнгианскими авторами. В этой статье я делаю попытку
показать, что критика Винникотта в основе своей вводит в заблуждение,
поскольку исходит из психоаналитической модели психики, той модели,
которая рассматривает всякую диссоциацию как неизбежно
патологическую. Я доказываю, что понимание психики Юнгом радикально
отличается от этой модели, и, в дальнейшем, что она соотносится во многом
с тем типом диссоциативной модели, которую мы находим в работах
Фредерика Майерса, Уильяма Джеймса и Теодора Флурнойя. Я прихожу к
выводу о том, что плодотворные отношения между психоанализом и
аналитической психологией должны зависеть от осознания этих важных
различий между двумя психическими моделями.

Ключевые слова: Винникотт, диссоциация, Майерс, Джеймс, Флурной, Джанет,

множественная психика
Divided psyche 347

En su revisión de Recuerdos, Sueños, Pensamientos, Winnicott diagnosticó a Jung como

sufriendo de una disociación psíquica, y caracterizando el contenido y la estructura de la
psicología analítica como habiendo sido primariamente moldeada y condicionada por la
propia búsqueda defensiva de Jung de un “self que el pudiese llamar propio”. Este
análisis patológico continúa siendo legitimado por escritores Junguianos
contemporáneos. En el presente ensayo, intento mostrar que la crítica de Winnicott es
fundamentalmente errónea debido a que deriva de un modelo psicoanalítico de la
psique, modelo que contempla toda disociación como necesariamente patológica.
Argumento que la comprensión de Jung de la psique difiere radicalmente de este
modelo, y además, que responde a una clase de modelo disociativo que podemos
encontrar en los escritos de Frederic Myers, William James, y Theodor Flournoy.
Concluyo que una relación fructífera entre el psicoanálisis y la psicología analítica
debe depender del reconocimiento de estas importantes diferencias entre los dos
modelos psíquicos.

Palabras clave: Winnicott, disociación, Myers, James, Flournoy, Janet, multiplicidad

psíquica

荣格,维尼科特和分离的心灵在维尼科特对《回忆、梦、思考》的评论中,他诊断荣格
经受了心灵分裂的折磨,分析心理学的内容和结构都具有与这一折磨有关的特点,分析
心理学被荣格自己防御性地追寻 “他称之为自己的自己”所铸造和影响 这一病理分
析也持续地被现代荣格学派的作者所支持 这篇文章中,我尝试展示维尼科特的批判
所具有的根本错误,因为它是基于精神分析的心灵模型,而这一模型把所有的分裂状态
看作是病理性的 我主张,荣格对于心灵的理解与此有根本性的差异,并且,在
Frederic Myers, William James 和Theodor Flournoy 著述中所写的分离模型与之有很
大程度上的一致 我得出结论,精神分析和分析心理学之间有成效的关系必须依赖于
对这两种心灵模型中重要差异的觉察

关键词: 维尼科特， 分裂，Myers, James, Flournoy, Janet, 多重心灵

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