The International Journal of Psychoanalysis

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Freud's view of death and repetition as grounds of

a Kleinian approach to narcissism: Implications for
clinical practice

Rachel B. Blass

To cite this article: Rachel B. Blass (2019): Freud's view of death and repetition as grounds of
a Kleinian approach to narcissism: Implications for clinical practice, The International Journal of
Psychoanalysis, DOI: 10.1080/00207578.2019.1660579

To link to this article: https://doi.org/10.1080/00207578.2019.1660579

Published online: 23 Dec 2019.

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INT J PSYCHOANAL
https://doi.org/10.1080/00207578.2019.1660579

Repetition and the Death Drive

Freud’s view of death and repetition as grounds of a Kleinian

approach to narcissism: Implications for clinical practice
Rachel B. Blass

ABSTRACT
Central to a Kleinian view of the person and the analytic process is
the notion that narcissism is mainly pathological, involving the
denial of the object, of his existence as independent of oneself or
of his having value. In this paper I will argue that the study of
how this view is grounded in Freud’s thinking, especially his
thinking on the death instinct, and particularly in his Beyond the
Pleasure Principle, deepens the understanding of this Kleinian view
and points to its complexity. Also, through this study what
essentially characterizes Kleinian practice, distinguishing it from
other kinds of analytic practice is highlighted and Freud’s ongoing
relevance and contribution to contemporary Kleinian practice is
made apparent.

A Kleinian worldview in regard to narcissism

The Kleinian approach to narcissism is often presented through contrast with that of
Freud. It is emphasized that whereas for Freud there is primary narcissism, an original
objectless state (from which the child gradually develops relations), for Klein, in contrast,
the person is object-related from the very start. From the first moment (or at least from the
first moment of hunger) the infant knows of his relatedness to the maternal object. Thus,
broadly speaking, narcissism is a certain stance in relation to the object, a form of denial of
the actual relatedness to it, and Kleinian thinking on narcissism expands on how and why
this denial takes place, its impact and the possibility of changing it.
Klein as well as some of her followers (e.g. Paula Heimann and Hanna Segal) recognized
that Freud’s position on the existence of primary narcissism, while constituting one impor-
tant strand of his thinking taken up by Anna Freud and her followers, was not consistently
held by Freud himself. For example, in her 1952 paper “The Origins of Transference” Klein
at first describes how her views on narcissism are seemingly at odds with those of Freud.
While she sees the infant’s self-love and auto-erotism as moments of relationship with an
internalized good object “which in phantasy forms part of the loved body and self,” Freud
posits auto-erotic and narcissistic stages which preclude object relations. However, she
then goes on to reject this apparent opposition between their positions and states that
the difference between Freud’s view and my own is less wide than appears at first sight, since
Freud’s statements on this issue are not unequivocal. In various contexts he explicitly and

CONTACT Rachel B. Blass rachelblass@googlemail.com

© 2019 Institute of Psychoanalysis
2 R. B. BLASS

implicitly expressed opinions which suggested a relation to an object, the mother’s breast, pre-
ceding auto-erotism and narcissism. (Klein 1952, 51)

In support of this understanding of Freud, she refers both to his 1922 Encyclopedia article
(Freud 1923a) in which he describes autoerotism and narcissism as a displacement of a
more original love of the mother’s breast and to his ideas on the child’s early identifi-
cations with parental objects which go back to the “pre-history of every person,” as
Freud puts it in his the Ego and the Id (1923b) harking back to his earlier Totem and
Taboo (1912–13). Klein argues that these early identifications, which Freud maintains
take place even prior to object cathexis, approximate what she refers to as the child’s
first introjected objects.
She goes on to emphasize that the clarification of the relationship between the
different theories of narcissism is crucial to “a greater general understanding of the funda-
mental problems of early infancy,” to the understanding of the very meaning of our mental
processes and emotional life.
Indeed, the Kleinian view of narcissism, based on the strand of Freud’s thinking that
posits primary object-relatedness, shapes Kleinian thinking and clinical practice in a very
dramatic way and is an essential component of the Kleinian worldview. Since according
to this approach experience, thought and meaning are regarded as essentially relational,
not only is narcissism a kind of denial of this essential relatedness, a perversion or distor-
tion of reality, but all denial, all perversion and distortion may be regarded as essentially
narcissistic. In a sense it is to opt to see the world as one wants it to be, in terms of wishes
and desires that suit oneself, rather than as it is in and of itself. It is to omnipotently project
parts of oneself into others, and omnipotently introject parts of others into oneself, in the
process doing away with the distinction between self and other. In other words, mental
illness, the failure to see reality as it is, is essentially to see things only in terms of
oneself or through projection and introjection to see only oneself, counter to how
things really are. In other words, it is narcissism.
It is important to take note that from one perspective one may regard this narcissism as
an inevitable and unfortunate consequence of an effort to do away with that which is
painful in reality. A patient may deny the harm he feels he has inflicted to spare himself
feelings of guilt and in this process may regard the object (e.g. the analyst) as highly
appreciative of him, rather than as critical. The idealized object, in this case, becomes
merely an expression or extension of a part of the patient’s inner reality; it loses its inde-
pendent existence. But from another perspective, one more attuned to Klein’s relational
view of the person, the narcissistic denial of the independent existence of the object
may be regarded as a central motive in its own right. What is painful about reality, what
causes the guilt and all other disturbing feelings, is the separate existence of the object,
its independent otherness, the fact of being in a relationship with it. This is what actively
must be done away with.
In light of this, it may be seen that the analytic process of integrating split-off parts of
oneself, of coming to know oneself, is not only one in which the ability to see reality
improves. Rather, it is also one of coming to tolerate reality, the otherness of reality in
all the disturbing aspects of this otherness. In line with this, it is not only painful truths
that have to be contended with in the course of this process, but the very painfulness
of there being truth—it being in part outside the patient’s control, in part unknown to
 INT J PSYCHOANAL 3

him, a source of psychic well-being and cure that is available, but frustratingly in a sense
out of one’s reach, accessible more to others than to one’s own defensive self. A notable
reference to the struggle with narcissism involved in the recognition of the very existence
of unconscious truth may be seen in Freud’s “A Difficulty in the Path of Psychoanalysis”
(1917; first published in English in the first issue of the IJP). Freud there speaks of the
person’s unwillingness to recognize unconscious drives and thoughts because of the
implication that “the ego is not master in its own house.” In order to avoid what Freud
there refers to as a “narcissistic blow,” the person, Freud states, not only denies uncon-
scious truths on the personal level, but also dismisses the whole field of psychoanalysis,
which interferes with these personal efforts at denial.
Realizing that patients not only want to avoid painful truths but may want to avoid
coming to know any truth unknown to them, and that they may want to do so because
of the recognition of the other that coming to know such truth requires, highlights how
crucial is the understanding of the meanings and roots of narcissism to the advancement
of the analytic process. Accordingly, Kleinian analysts have notably advanced our under-
standing of the underpinnings of narcissism. In what follows I will briefly outline some
dimensions of this understanding, separating out aspects which are often presented in
analytic discourse as one intertwined dynamic. This can enrich our understanding of
the Kleinian view of the narcissistic relationship to the object and set the ground for
exploring its tie to Freud’s thinking on death and repetition.

The Kleinian dynamics of narcissism

Three main models of narcissism can be discerned.
(1) The denial of concern for the object as part of the denial of guilt for having, in phantasy,
killed the good and beloved object. The person is convinced that he has no love for others
and this protects against the guilt for having in his mind destroyed them. Paradoxically, in
this case the object is in a sense killed off, becomes inconsequential, in order to conceal or
obliterate the fact that the object was indeed killed off.
This aspect of narcissism is discussed most directly in Joan Riviere’s paper “A Contri-
bution to the Analysis of the Negative Therapeutic Reaction” (1936). She speaks there of
patients who maintain omnipotent control of the analyst and the analytic situation.
These patients tend to prepare what they will say rather than free associate, are self-
satisfied, feel no guilt, deny any failings or anything discreditable to themselves and
notably refuse to take in interpretations and, especially, to admit their value, acknowledge
their helpfulness. At the same time, they maintain a façade of friendliness and even com-
pliance, with the aim of concealing their egotistical, controlling stance. Riviere states that
what underlies this is unconscious guilt over having destroyed one’s loved objects and
almost no belief in the ability to repair or revive them. Thus,
the slightest failure in reality, the faintest breath of criticism, and his [the patient’s] belief sinks
to zero again—death or madness, his own and others’, is ever before the eyes of his uncon-
scious mind. He cannot possibly regenerate and recreate all the losses and destruction he has
caused, and if he cannot pay this price, his own death is the only alternative. (1936, 145)

She goes on to speak “of the contrast and incongruity of his love and need to save with his
egoism, his tyranny, his lack of feeling for others” (150). This comes about not only because
4 R. B. BLASS

the patient’s recognition of his love of others would make him vulnerable to feelings of
guilt, but also because on a certain unconscious level he experiences his turn inwards
towards himself and away from real objects as a loving turn towards his inner objects:
For his object-relations are not to real people, his object-relations are all within himself; his
inner world is all the world to him. Whatever he does for his objects he does for himself as
well; if only he could do it! he thinks; and in mania he thinks he can. So it is the overwhelming
importance of the inner world of his emotional relations that makes him in real life so ego-
centric, asocial, self-seeking—so fantastic! (150)

According to Riviere, it is this complex state of narcissism that underlies the negative thera-
peutic reaction. The patient cannot change because it would mean to recognize that he
deserves death. He cannot receive help because his suffering inner objects deserve it
more than him. The analyst, in this context, is not only the denied real object, but also
the internal object whom the patient unconsciously loves. Cure comes about through
the patient coming to acknowledge and integrate this love, “unearthing this love and
so the guilt with it”, which given the unwillingness to change or be helped is a very
difficult analytic task (151).1
(2) Idealization and devaluation as part of the denial of frustration and envy. The idealized
object may arouse envy, but its idealization can serve to deny the envy of the good object.
For instance, if the idealized object is, in phantasy, regarded as part of oneself or in one’s
control, the envy is obviated. Similarly, the devalued object, perceived as external to
oneself, allows envy to be denied. In the latter case the object is considered to be both
unworthy of envy and through projection to be himself envious. The processes of idealiz-
ation and devaluation of the object involve similar processes in the self. The self in control
of the idealized object is felt to be ideal and envy-arousing, the devalued self conceals the
competition with the object that underlies and supports envy.
This “idealization-devaluation” aspect of narcissism is discussed in Klein’s Envy and
Gratitude (1957). In that text, Klein does not directly use the term “narcissism” but
speaks of how “strongly exalting the object and its gifts is an attempt to diminish envy”
(216) and how “spoiling and devaluing” (217) are inherent in envy. “The object which
has been devalued need not be envied any more” (ibid). These comments rest on her
foundational ideas regarding the necessary early process of the splitting of the self and
the object into good and bad parts. The good part is at first ideal, and while idealization
“derives from the innate feeling that an extremely good breast exists,” (193) a basically
positive state, it is thought that the ongoing strong need to idealize, to deny the
object’s inherent limitations and shortcomings, is driven by persecutory anxieties and
that the idealized object is ultimately less well integrated into the ego and helpful to its
well-being.
The forms that idealization and devaluation take, Klein explains, vary according to the
specific dynamic organization. For example, “A defence particular to more depressive
types is devaluation of the self. … By devaluing their own gifts they both deny envy
and punish themselves for it” (1957, 218). Greedy internalization of the idealized objects
so that the breast “in the infant’s mind … becomes entirely his possession and controlled

1
Melanie Klein’s discussion of the manic patient’s tendency to idealize and devalue his objects is based on a similar
dynamic. Through this, what is denied is his “impulse to make extensive and detailed reparation because he has to
deny the cause for the reparation; namely, the injury to object and his consequent guilt and sorrow” (1940, 352).
 INT J PSYCHOANAL 5

by him, [and] all the good that he attributes to it will be his own” is yet another way “to
counteract envy” (ibid.). But this defence, like the others, Klein explains, is doomed to fail:
a good object which is well established, and therefore assimilated, not only loves the subject
but is loved by it. This, I believe, is characteristic of the relation to a good object, but does not
apply, or only in a minor degree, to an idealized one. By powerful and violent possessiveness,
the good object is felt to turn into a destroyed persecutor and the consequences of envy are
not sufficiently prevented. By contrast, if tolerance towards a loved person is experienced, it is
also projected on to others, who thus become friendly figures. (Ibid.)

The consequent sense of persecution is further intensified by one’s efforts to make the
object envious, which because of the harm to the object that this involves, arouses guilt
and fear of loss.
Discussing these ideas, Hanna Segal concludes:
If with Melanie Klein, one contends that awareness of an object relation and, therefore, envy
exist from the beginning, narcissism could be seen as a defence against envy. (1997, 78)

(3) The denial of dependence through denial of difference. Here the main idea is that what
needs to be denied is the very otherness of the object. It is this otherness that determines
our dependence and it is the dependence on the object that is unbearable. In part, it may
be unbearable because of the envy and frustration and hence hostility that it arouses, but
it would seem that there is something about the very fact of dependence that is a problem
as well. The very fact of needing, of not being self-sufficient, is what is disturbing, with
there being various explanations as to why this would be the case. Narcissism in this
context is regarded as a form of relationship that denies difference and thus experience
and recognition of dependence.
This is most comprehensively described by Herbert Rosenfeld in his 1964 “The Psycho-
pathology of Narcissism.” There he characterizes narcissism in terms of omnipotence,
identification and denial of separateness. The way he explains these characteristics
points to the centrality of the issue of difference. Omnipotence, according to Rosenfeld,
derives from the incorporation of the object or projection into it in such a way that “it
is treated as the infant’s possession” (170). In the course of this kind of process, “the self
becomes so identified with the incorporated object that all separate identity or any
boundary between self and object is denied” (ibid.). And finally, separation must be
denied because awareness of it “would lead to feelings of dependence on an object
and therefore to anxiety” (171).
In that paper Rosenfeld does indeed describe the important role of envy and hostility in
narcissistic relationships, and similarly to Klein shows how these find expression in ideal-
ization and devaluation. But this goes on alongside Rosenfeld’s special emphasis on a fear
of dependence and accordingly his emphasis of the denial of difference and of separate-
ness that narcissism tries to bring about. That is, Rosenfeld’s writing on narcissism suggests
that one may deny the existence of the loved object and appropriate its goods not only in
order to deny the harm that one has done to the object or recognition of the object’s
superiority and hence the envy that it arouses but also because one cannot bear separ-
ation from the object. One unconsciously feels that one’s own existence, one’s very self
is dependent on that of the presence of the object and thus to lose the object would
be to lose oneself; it would be annihilation. To avoid this, one omnipotently incorporates
6 R. B. BLASS

the object. In other words, idealization of the self or the object as well as an apparent lack
of concern for the real object is more a consequence of the denial of separateness than the
cause of it. What ultimately determines the prognosis of the narcissistic patient, Rosenfeld
affirms, is
the degree to which he is gradually able to acknowledge the relationship to the analyst, repre-
senting the mother in the feeding situation. This implies … a recognition of separation and
frustration. (1964, 179)

It may be suggested that here Rosenfeld relies on Klein’s thinking on dependence (e.g.
Klein 1937), her view that separation may be experienced as life-threatening because
indeed the mother “kept [the infant’s] life going” (1937, 321).
She is therefore felt as the source of all goodness and of life; in unconscious phantasy she
becomes an inseparable part of oneself; her death would therefore imply one’s own death.
(321–322)

When hostility and guilt intensify the fear of her death, separation from loved objects,
becomes more difficult and is defended against. It would seem that Rosenfeld regards nar-
cissism as one such form of defence. Accordingly, the danger of this defence is the loss of
oneself in the other, the loss of one’s identity (precisely what this defence hopes to attain).
This view of Rosenfeld’s ideas on narcissism may be seen to be in line with his concern
with the integrity of self-identity that runs throughout his writings.

Narcissism and death

What becomes apparent from this description of the different aspects or dynamics of nar-
cissism is that all refer to a tie between narcissism and death. Not only do all three share
the basic idea that narcissism is the denial of the object—in a sense its annihilation as
good and real. But all three posit reasons tied to death as the source of this annihilation.
In the first instance it is to conceal that the inner objects are dead (killed), in the second it is
because of envy, an expression of the death instinct, and in the third, it is out of fear of the
death of the object, which would mean one’s own death.
A tie between narcissism and death is first made very explicit in Rosenfeld’s 1971 paper
“A Clinical Approach to the Psychoanalytic Theory of the Life and Death Instincts: An Inves-
tigation into the Aggressive Aspects of Narcissism.” There he goes back to his 1964 paper
in order to further refine his ideas. While he reaffirms his position that narcissistic states
“act as a defence against any recognition of separateness between the self and
objects,” (122) and that this does away with feelings of dependence, he now argues
that it is possible to distinguish within this context between two types of narcissism—libi-
dinal and destructive. In the former, self-idealization centres on good objects and their
qualities; in phantasy all good is thought to reside within oneself or to be in one’s omni-
potent control. In destructive narcissism, in contrast, the idealization is of destructive parts
of the self.
They are directed both against any positive libidinal object relationship and any libidinal part
of the self which experiences need for an object and the desire to depend on it. … they have a
very powerful effect in preventing dependent object relations and in keeping external objects
permanently devalued, which accounts for the apparent indifference of the narcissistic indi-
vidual towards external objects and the world. (122–123)
 INT J PSYCHOANAL 7

Libidinal narcissism is not free of aggression, but it is not considered to be as inherent to

the narcissistic state as it is for destructive narcissism. Rosenfeld writes that in libidinal nar-
cissism, “destructiveness becomes apparent as soon as omnipotent self-idealization is
threatened by contact with an object which is perceived as separate from the self”
(123). In this situation, the realization that valuable qualities and powers thought to be
one’s own actually belong to the external object arouses feelings of revenge and resent-
ment and in turn envy. In the case of destructive narcissism, in contrast,
envy is more violent and appears as a wish to destroy the analyst as the object who is the real
source of life and goodness. At the same time violent self-destructive impulses appear, … the
narcissistic patient wants to believe that he has given life to himself and is able to feed and
look after himself. When he is faced with the reality of being dependent on the analyst, stand-
ing for the parents, particularly the mother, he would prefer to die, to be non-existent, to deny
the fact of his birth, and also to destroy his analytic progress and insight representing the child
in himself, which he feels the analyst, representing the parents, has created. Frequently at this
point the patient wants to give up the analysis but more often he acts out in a self-destructive
way by spoiling his professional success and his personal relations. Some of these patients
become suicidal and the desire to die, to disappear into oblivion, is expressed quite openly
and death is idealized as a solution to all problems. (123)

In this process, the individual is identified with the destructive self, “which aims to triumph
over life and creativity represented by the parents and the analyst by destroying the
dependent libidinal self experienced as the child” (ibid.). It is interesting to note that
Rosenfeld’s descriptions of destructive narcissism very much resemble Joan Riviere’s
understanding of narcissism. Rosenfeld writes: “The patient often believes that he has
destroyed his caring self, his love, for ever (sic) and there is nothing anybody can do to
change the situation” (ibid.).
In regard to the involvement of death in the dynamics of narcissism, Rosenfeld’s point
in his distinction between libidinal and destructive narcissism is twofold. First, he main-
tains that there is a form of narcissism in which the killing of the object is inherent to
the dynamics of denial of dependence and there is a form in which it is not. The
second point has to do with different reactions to the failure of the narcissistic defence.
In the face of failure and the inevitable recognition of dependence, the destructive narcis-
sist opts for death. The libidinal narcissist does not. This reaction to failure also tells us
something of the nature and intensity of the forces that go into supporting the defence.
It is important to note that before presenting his own ideas on destructive narcissism
Rosenfeld first offers a lengthy discussion of Freud’s thinking on the life and death
instincts. His point seems to be that Freud encouraged making clinical use of his death
instinct (e.g. for the understanding of moral masochism, resistance, negative therapeutic
reactions). Freud, however, Rosenfeld argues, did not apply the death instinct to the
understanding of narcissism. There was the opportunity for him to connect between
the difficulties he encountered in treating narcissism (1916) and his understanding of
the involvement of the death instinct in resistance and negative therapeutic reactions
(1937), but he did not. Rosenfeld suggests that the failure to do so may have been tied
to Freud’s thinking of narcissism in terms of withdrawal of libido from the object back
onto the self where it originated; a process which does not seem connected to the
death instinct. Freud (according to Rosenfeld) did, however, point to a connection
between hate and narcissism. He cites Freud in “Instincts and Their Vicissitudes” (1915):
8 R. B. BLASS

When during the stage of primary narcissism the object makes its appearance, the second
opposite to loving, namely hating, also attains its development. (136)

This hate, Rosenfeld explains, in relation to objects, “derives from the narcissistic ego’s pri-
mordial repudiation of the external world with its outpouring stimuli” (Rosenfeld 1971,
118). Rosenfeld then briefly references Freud’s idea of the Nirvana principle, which
Freud, according to Rosenfeld, saw “as a withdrawal or regression to primary narcissism
under the dominance of the death instinct—where peace and giving in to death are
equated” (ibid). (It is notable that he does not refer the reader to any specific page or
comment to support this reading of Freud. It is clear that Freud ties the Nirvana principle
to the death instinct, but how he conceives of the tie between the Nirvana principle and
narcissism is not clear. Freud’s notion of primary narcissism is commonly thought to be
one in which there is libidinal investment in the self, not divestment of libido there. In
any case, it would seem that Rosenfeld’s point here is to show that while Freud had
some intimation of the connection of the death instinct and narcissism, he hadn’t devel-
oped it—he couldn’t because of his commitment to his early model of narcissism. Devel-
opments in Kleinian thinking which advanced Freud’s thinking on the death instinct allow
for this. Moreover, in light of Kleinian thinking we may see that the clinical expression of
the death instinct does not find expression in some way completely defused from the life
instinct. Rather, it involves the destructive part of the self “paralyzing or psychically killing,
the libidinal parts of the self derived from the life instinct” (128). This gives hope for the
treatment of narcissistic patients. These patients are not as impenetrable as they
seemed to Freud. What is needed in the course of analysis is “to find access to the libidinal
dependent self, which can mitigate the destructive impulses” (129). His focus here is more
on dependence than on guilt, but in other respects this conclusion corresponds to that of
Joan Riviere. She speaks of the love for the object that lies behind the stubborn resistances
of such patients and the key to the treatment being in “unearthing this love” (1936, 151).
Rosenfeld also locates his ideas on destructive narcissism relative to those of Melanie
Klein. He regards her ideas to be concerned with libidinal, as opposed to destructive nar-
cissism. Indeed, she tied envy to the death instincts, but not to narcissism.
In her contributions to narcissism she stressed more the libidinal aspects and suggested that
narcissism is in fact a secondary phenomenon which is based on a relationship with an
internal good or ideal object, which in fantasy forms part of the loved body and self. She
thought that in narcissistic states withdrawal from external relationships to an identification
with an idealized internal object takes place. (Rosenfeld 1971, 120)

Moreover, Rosenfeld maintained that in regard to the death instinct Klein considered envy
to be its “direct derivative” (121)—with the directness of this apparently to be contrasted
with Rosenfeld’s emphasis of the latent involvement of libidinal aspects in the narcissistic
dynamics, including in destructive narcissism. This understanding of Klein’s position high-
lights Rosenfeld’s contribution not only in relation to Freud but also in relation to Klein.
This understanding of Klein is, however, controversial. Indeed, she affirms that narcis-
sism “include[s] the love for and relation with the internalized good object which in phan-
tasy forms part of the loved body and self” (1952, 51). And that in “narcissistic states” what
takes place is a withdrawal to this internalized object. But such narcissistic states need to
be distinguished from object relations (schizoid ones according to Klein [1946, 12–13]) in
which narcissism predominates. In these relations, parts of the self (good or bad) are so
 INT J PSYCHOANAL 9

omnipotently projected into the object that the object is related to as an extension of
oneself, not as an other, and this is not a libidinal situation but rather one of domination
and control. In fact, Klein suggests that since in this situation “the loved object is felt to be
loved predominantly as a representative of the self,” it arouses “fear that the capacity to
love has been lost” (ibid., 9).
In other words, while narcissistic states are libidinal, expressions of the life instincts, nar-
cissistic object relations are destructive (see Segal 1997). They deny the object, and as we
have seen in Klein’s Envy and Gratitude, may be expressions of envy, which Klein directly
tied to the working of the death instinct. More generally, it may be argued that while with-
drawal to good internal objects does not distort external reality, omnipotent projective
identification does, and that this constitutes a destructive attack on reality.

The role of Freud’s death instinct

It may be seen that the exploration of Freud’s thinking in regard to the death instinct offers
a deeper and more comprehensive understanding of the Kleinian approaches to narcis-
sism and its encounter within the analytic situation. Two directions of exploration are
especially important.
(1) The implications of the death instinct. In putting forth the notion of the death instinct,
Freud did much more than merely postulate that human beings have a destructive
tendency. In fact, Freud has been criticized for not remaining within the confines of a
destructive tendency, instead adding to it what seemed to many to be strange and eso-
teric ideas regarding death. It was this broader notion of the death instinct (not merely
a destructive tendency) that Klein adopted. So, in understanding the Kleinian view of nar-
cissism and the role of death in shaping its dynamics and meaning, this must be taken into
account.
(2) Freud’s understanding of the relationship between the death instinct and narcis-
sism. In the development of his notion of the death instinct, Freud presents a new
view on the tie between narcissism and death, which is relevant to the Kleinian
view of it. What I have in mind is not the connection that Rosenfeld refers to
between narcissism and Nirvana, which I noted above is problematic. Nor am I refer-
ring to Freud’s exposition of his familiar 1914 model of narcissism as part of his expla-
nation of the need to develop the new model of the life and death instincts (i.e. with
the recognition that not only objects but also the ego are libidinally invested, “the
original opposition between the ego instincts and the sexual instincts proved to be
inadequate” (Freud 1920, 52) and the foundational source of psychic conflict had to
be sought elsewhere). Rather, I am concerned here with a direct tie that Freud
forges between death and narcissism as a form of investment (not divestment) in
the self, a tie between death and self-preservation.
I will now discuss these two directions.
The implications of the death instinct
In her 1943 presentation of “Some Aspects of the Role of Introjection and Projection
in Early Development,” one of the lectures presented in the context of the “Controver-
sial Discussions,” Paula Heimann describes the crucial role of the theory of the death
instinct:
10 R. B. BLASS

Acceptance of the theory of the death instinct brings about a different approach to the mani-
festations of destructiveness, the inter-play of love and hate, in fact, to all psychological
phenomena, from that obtaining when psychical conflicts are not traced back to an antithesis
as final and cardinal as that of these inherently conflicting primal instincts. One conceives of
the human mind as being by its very nature compelled to manipulate constantly between two
fundamentally opposed instincts, from which all emotions, sensations, desires, and activities
derive. It can never escape conflict, can never be static, but must always go on, one way or
another, must always employ devices to mediate between its antithetical drives. And since
the instincts are inborn, we have to conclude that some form of conflict exists from the begin-
ning of life.

Our assessment of environmental factors is different, too, from this standpoint. The impact of
external stimuli falls upon a subject who is assailed by stimuli from within, and the significance
of accidental experiences can only be appreciated if the intrapsychic background of conflict is
taken into consideration as well. In the same way in which the imperative nature of the sexual
instincts can only be grasped after recognition of them as the carriers of the life instinct, so the
destructive manifestations can only be seen adequately in perspective when we keep in mind
that they are ultimately a “deflection outward” of the death instinct. Our understanding of the
position of the individual with who we are dealing becomes more poignant when we become
aware of the source from which his destructiveness springs. It is by no means merely an aca-
demic question whether we accept the theory of the death instinct, for it cannot fail to
influence profoundly our practical work; e.g. our understanding of the negative transference
rests on a different basis in the light of this theory, which also holds out a prospect of fuller
comprehension of the difficult problems of projection and persecution symptoms.
(Heimann 1943, 512)

In other words, in addition to the fact that it posits the presence of a destructive ten-
dency, Freud’s notion of the death instinct involves a certain perspective on the person
and the psychoanalytic approach to his understanding. It affirms that “the human mind”
is in constant conflict and that this conflict underlies all action, experience and thought.
The loved object is always also hated.
(a) One thing that this means is that destructiveness plays a part even when what is mani-
fest is love. Klein writes:
Feelings of sorrow, guilt and anxiety are experienced by the infant when he comes to realise to
a certain extent that his loved object is the same as the one he hates and has attacked and is
going on attacking in his uncontrollable sadism and greed, and that sorrow, guilt and anxiety
are part and parcel of the complex relation to objects which we call love. ([1936] 2017, 37)

This impacts our understanding of the Kleinian views of narcissistic dynamics described
above. The guilt over the death of the object, the way envy is experienced and defended
against, the dangers associated with dependence are seen as emerging from this basic
tension between love and hate in regard to the object. One would, for example, be
attuned to the hate and destruction in the narcissist’s professed love, friendliness, and
idealization. But at the same time, one would see the narcissistic manifestations as part
of an effort to deal with this hate because of love. The analyst would recognize love in
the narcissist’s indifference towards the object, his devaluation or his appropriation of it.
Indeed, the understanding of the individual’s situation becomes “more poignant.”
(b) Another thing that the assumption of the mind as in constant conflict between life and
death means is that the analyst cannot hope to address some conscious and reasonable ego.
This has direct technical implications. There is no observing ego that can simply listen to
 INT J PSYCHOANAL 11

the analyst and reasonably consider the truths conveyed in the interpretations offered
(including interpretations of resistance and defence). Rather, the ego, the patient’s very
mind, too, is constantly pulled in opposing directions of the life and death instincts. Knowl-
edge of truth or reality, like our relationships to significant objects, is determined by both
love and hate. The desire to know and understand, Freud and Klein’s epistemophilia, finds
expression against a background of a pull not to—not to perceive, recognize or think (to
attack links [Bion] or to more silently become mindless [see Bell 2015]). That is, the rejec-
tion of truth (in general, not only of specific threatening truths), which as noted earlier may
be an expression of the narcissistic rejection of otherness, is grounded in the death
instinct, the force behind the inevitable hatred of loved objects. The intimate tie
between narcissism and the death instinct becomes very apparent here.2
The technical implications are far-reaching. The basic issue of how to offer an interpret-
ation and what it means to offer one becomes ever more complex. One could still hope to
address an observing ego, inviting the patient to take a more intellectual, reflective stance
to some extent detached from his inner world and the instinctual forces that naturally play
into it. But recognizing the artificial nature of this stance and the detachment that this
involves, this option would have to be forfeited. But then in the absence of an observing
ego how can interpretations be received? Perhaps the following analogy may help. If we
think of an observing ego as a kind of neutral UN representative who receives information
regarding warring parties (the mind in battle between the life and death instincts), in the
absence or ineffectiveness of such a representative we would have to speak directly to the
warring parties themselves. Direct engagement would be needed. Returning to the ana-
lytic situation, this would mean that for interpretations to be effective we would have
to engage the mind in conflict in an immediate way. Rather than trying to find in the
patient some more detached analytic partner or ally who could seemingly receive infor-
mation regarding the conflicts going on in the mind, we would have to hope that in
that conflicted mind there is enough life instinct, love of truth, for the interpretation to
be heard (Blass 2016).3
Elsewhere I have described several aspects of what such immediate engagement
involves (Blass 2011, 2017).4 For example, it involves avoiding offering to the patient

2
Freud’s comments on what happened “when primaeval man saw someone who belonged to him die—his wife, his child,
his friend” are relevant here (1915, 293). Freud affirms that primaeval man “undoubtedly loved [this person] as we love
ours, for love cannot be much younger than the lust to kill. Then, in his pain, he was forced to learn that one can die, too,
oneself, and his whole being revolted against the admission; for each of these loved ones was, after all, a part of his own
beloved ego. But, on the other hand, deaths such as these pleased him as well, since in each of the loved persons there
was also something of the stranger” (ibid.).
3
It should be understood that in this process it is not that a loving part of the ego becomes an observer of a part related to
the death instincts. Rather, it is a situation in which a conflicted mind in which love prevails summons up and integrates
split-off or denied parts.
4
I have described this in the contexts of working in the “here and now” and the implications of Kleinian phantasy for ana-
lytic work. By considering them under the heading of the death instinct, emphasis is placed on an essential qualitative
dimension of the immediate encounter between patient and analyst that takes place in the analytic situation. There is no
observing ego, no neutral cognitive capacity to receive interpretations, not only because the mind is constituted of phan-
tasy, but from another perspective, because the mind is driven by love and hate, by pulls towards life and towards death.
And the pull towards death, which finds concealed expression in so many ways in the analytic encounter, must be recog-
nized for interpretations to have an effect. In this context it should be noted that the ideas of working in the “here and
now” and the conflicted nature of the ego are not exclusive to Kleinian thinking. However, it may be seen that in non-
Kleinian frameworks these ideas have been understood and applied in ways that allow or encourage the analyst con-
cerned with the interpretation of psychic reality to assume the existence of a reasonable observing ego and to
address interpretations to that part of the patient (Auchincloss and Samberg 2012; Busch 2011; Gray 1986; Greenson
1967, 2008; Kernberg 1998). Accordingly, interpretations in these non-Kleinian frameworks tend to be “about” what is
12 R. B. BLASS

interpretations that are basically broad generalizations regarding his predicament. A

general interpretation would be of the kind, “when you feel dependent, you need to
attack.” No matter how true and transferentially and countertransferentially based this
statement may be, it inevitably invites the patient to stand outside of himself and
reflect on it. Instead, the analyst will try to touch and elaborate the immediate moment
going on in the patient’s experience and conflicted mind, the phantasies that feed into
the current situation. Rather than relate to the general condition of “dependence,” the
analyst will interpret the specific relational situation going on in the room as conceived
by the patient. For example, in the light of an intervention the patient may realize that
the analyst is not completely transparent to him and may consequently feel that he
(the patient) is dying. The patient may respond to this by regarding the analyst as worth-
less, which in the patient’s mind is to annihilate him. Further aspects of this situation which
may enter an interpretation would address the patient’s knowledge that, in fact, he is not
dying; that the analyst’s separation is not life-threatening, but also may be life-giving, etc.
This “direct touch” kind of interpretation invites an immediate gut response, rather than a
reflective, rational assessment; it makes the inner world, the latent phantasies more
present, more alive, but at the same time it is met by a mind in conflict between instincts
of life and death. This is a mind that both welcomes this opportunity to come alive and
seeks to destroy it. If the life instinct prevails, then it will be welcomed, if the death instinct,
it will be attacked (e.g. by considering the interpretation itself to be an example of the ana-
lyst’s worthlessness).
The Kleinian analyst does not lament this situation, wishing that the patient would have
had more of a neutral observing ego that could be reasoned with. The analyst rather
regards it as the heart of the matter, part of the encounter with the ongoing battle in
the patient’s mind between life and death, which must be interpreted.
The absence of a reasonable observing ego also has implications for how we relate to
the patient’s associations. They too may now be regarded as expressions of both love and
hate, an effort to further understanding and to kill it, the outcome of the battle between
these opposing aims. Consequently, the analyst would steer away from asking for or in
some other way inviting from the patient associations and reflections with the idea that
such invitations would necessarily advance understanding. Not only may such invitations
actually involve the analyst acting on the patient’s projection into him of his life instincts,
of his (the patient’s) desire to know, leaving the patient with apparently no such desire, but
also associations and reflections may be offered to lead away from understanding or to
never go beyond what is already known (Joseph 1989).
What all this suggests is that taking into account how the life and death instincts shape
the mind of our patients and their ability to take in the truths of our interpretations signifi-
cantly impacts how one works analytically. It not only informs us in our work with patients
who have clearly narcissistic dynamics, but allows us to better understand and address the
narcissistic dimension (which finds expression in the aversion to truth) present in all
dynamics.

going on in the “here and now” with an aim of making the patient more “aware” and “reflective” regarding his predica-
ment. In turn, Kleinians have been taken to task for failing to do so or alternatively (under the assumption that doing so is
inevitable) for failing to adequately conceptualize how they go about doing so (Busch 2011; Greenson 1974; Kernberg
1969; Schafer 1994).
 INT J PSYCHOANAL 13

(c) One further influence of accepting Freud’s thinking on the life and death instincts refers to
the intrapsychic source of the patient’s predicament. As Paula Heimann explains, we may see
destructive environmental events, but their “significance … can only be appreciated if the
intrapsychic background of conflict is taken into consideration as well” (1943, 512). Moreover,
In the same way in which the imperative nature of the sexual instincts can only be grasped
after recognition of them as the carriers of the life instinct, so the destructive manifestations
can only be seen adequately in perspective when we keep in mind that they are ultimately a
“deflection outward” of the death instinct. (ibid)

In a related paper she clarifies:

Analysis shows how much unhappy experiences are actively provoked or exploited by the
sufferer. On account of the need to deflect hatred and destructiveness, ultimately of the
death instinct, from the self to objects, “bad” objects are needed and will be created, if not
found to hand … [And] since frustration acts as a lever for the deflection of hate and destruc-
tiveness from the self, it is sought after because an object which inflicts the pain of frustration
may be more justifiably hated and annihilated. (1952, 336)

This position has important clinical implications. It suggests that the ultimate level of
understanding and interpretation is that of live manifestations of inner conflictual
forces, rather than the description of difficult or traumatic events that may have shaped
the patient’s predicament. Furthermore, the interpretation would not remain merely
descriptive of libidinal or destructive experiences, but rather would go to the meaningful,
conflictual “sources from which [they] spring” (Heimann 1952, 336–337).
And how does this influence our clinical work specifically with the kind of narcissistic
dynamics described? One important influence is that it highlights their inner origin and
the importance of its interpretation. In our contemporary culture there is a strong ten-
dency to see narcissism and the kind of phenomena associated with it ultimately as a con-
sequence of actual injury, environmental harm (Lasch 1979). This may take the direction
exemplified by Kohut’s Self Psychology, namely that narcissistic injury is the result of
insufficient provision of self needs. But others, non-Kohutians, may speak more generally
of early trauma, a very broad popular term, which can include various forms of environ-
mental absence, neglect or harm, whether accidental or not and in a wide range of sever-
ity, which may affect the person’s sense of self-worth (e.g. early separations from parents,
illnesses, abusive sibling relationships as well as inattentive, unemotional, unappreciative
parenting). Finally, there are life events that may be felt to be inherently a source of nar-
cissistic injury, for example the fact of being small and helpless relative to parents, of being
excluded from the parental couple, of being conceived by them (rather than self-created),
or the birth of a sibling—which suggest that the role of child was not being completely
filled by oneself.
When narcissistic dynamics are viewed as ultimately a consequence of actual injury, the
bottom line of understanding and interpretation is pulled towards that level. One may
adopt the basic Kleinian framework of the dynamics of narcissism as described above
and yet still regard their source as environmental. An analyst may hold that the patient
devaluates the object in light of envy, but at the same time maintain that this was
caused by the patient being regarded as inferior to his elder brother, or at least by his
feeling so. Or an analyst may hold that when the patient cannot bear separation she
appropriates the maternal object, and yet consider the source of this predicament to lie
14 R. B. BLASS

in the fact that she experiences being born to her parents as humiliating. Interpretation
then clarifies or acknowledges these environmental causes. Alternatively, the source is
not addressed at all, the analyst sufficing instead with a description of the dynamics
(e.g. fear of dependence).
In contrast to this, when the conflict between life and death instincts is taken into
account, the analyst regards these instincts and the conflict between them as the
source of the narcissistic dynamics and the bottom line of interpretation. The conflicted
instincts are regarded as shaping the environmental situation, including the relationships
and experiences that seem to constitute actual narcissistic injury. For example, instead of
seeing experiences of inferiority in relation to a sibling as a cause of narcissistic dynamics,
the concern would be with how the conflictual forces of the life and death instincts have
shaped such experiences of inferiority and made them so unbearable. Similarly, one may
wonder why weakness and exclusion relative to parental objects are felt as humiliation.
Understanding may then be in terms of envy, the wish to control the object, the deflec-
tion of destructiveness into objects, which makes them seem unloving, unappreciative,
humiliating or at least makes their being so especially significant (if they are in fact so).
That is, without denying that reality could be painful or felt to be so, or that painful
reality has significant impacts, the adoption of the death instinct directs the analyst
to understand and interpret on the level of the inner conflictual instinctual sources of
the pain.
The acceptance of Freud’s notion of the death instinct and the choice to offer under-
standing primarily on the level of the inner instinctual sources, rather than environmental
causes, may be seen to be part and parcel of a worldview that guides Kleinian psychoana-
lysis. According to this view, our limitations and weaknesses are not regarded as inherent
sources of pain or narcissistic injury; being all-powerful and all-loved is not taken as a basic
right, as something to be expected or even desirable, and the absence of such an “ideal”
state is not regarded as damage. One may experience it as such because of the destructive
desires to possess the object, control it, receive all its love, destroy what cannot be one’s
own. And setting up “ideal” as default may be seen to be one way of justifying such experi-
ence—a step that receives support both from contemporary culture and from certain con-
temporary analytic approaches. Accordingly, it is the destructive desires that, from the
Kleinian perspective, must be understood and interpreted.5
The impact of Freud’s new view of the tie between death and narcissism in
Beyond the Pleasure Principle
I turn now to the second way in which Freud’s thinking on the death instinct grounds and
enriches the Kleinian approach to narcissism. It is found in Freud’s novel ideas on the
relationship of death and narcissism that he puts forth in Beyond the Pleasure Principle
(1920). That book is perhaps best known for being the one in which Freud introduces
his concept of the death instinct. But the path to its introduction is circuitous—the
concept emerging only towards the end of the book—and counter to popular accounts
only gradually becoming associated with aggression. In fact, the reference to aggression

5
In light of this view it may be suggested that in his distinction between libidinal and destructive narcissism Rosenfeld took
a step away from the basic Kleinian worldview in regard to limitation; that the distinction allowed him, in effect, to be
more tolerant of the patient’s denial of limitation so long as it did not involve overt aggression.
 INT J PSYCHOANAL 15

in the book is quite minimal. One thing that clearly is central to the book, as evidenced also
by the title, is Freud’s concern with situations or experiences that are not well explained by
the pleasure principle, such as the person’s tendency to relive painful events. What then,
Freud inquires, motivates the person aside from seeking pleasure? Freud’s answer to this
question is highly complex and at times contradictory or unclear, and many texts have
attempted to elucidate his ideas in this regard.
It was in my own effort to do so that I came to recognize a new understanding of nar-
cissism and its relationship to death that Freud offers in this book. This understanding
emerges in several steps. To summarize:
(a) Freud recognizes that what lies beyond the pleasure principle is a compulsion to repeat.
He notes that apparently counter to this principle people tend to repeat unpleasurable
experiences, e.g. traumas and situations of pain, loss and narcissistic injury, even in the
absence of there being any hope of the repetition ending pleasurably or being aimed
towards pleasure or reduction of tension. Among Freud’s examples are the dreams of
people who suffer from traumatic neurosis, in which the trauma they underwent (e.g. of
attack during war) is repeatedly re-experienced; children’s play, in which painful experi-
ences of abandonment are enacted; and most notably a compulsion to repeat and
relive narcissistic injury of childhood in life and in analysis.
Freud acknowledges that one may offer some explanations of these experiences that
are compatible with the pleasure principle (and he does so in this text and elsewhere).
For example, perhaps these are attempts at pleasure that fail, or fail for part of the person-
ality, but are pleasurable for other parts, etc. But here Freud feels that the evidence, taken
in its totality, requires acknowledging that the person is guided not only by the search for
pleasure (modified by the reality principle)—there is another force, beyond the pleasure
principle. This force is the compulsion to repeat. He reaches this conclusion by the end
of chapter 3 of his seven-chapter book.
(b) Freud tries to better understand the meaning and place of the compulsion to repeat in
the person’s psychic economy. While he could have, Freud does not conclude his book with
his acknowledgement that alongside the pleasure principle the person is guided by a com-
pulsion to repeat. Instead he tries to understand and ground this compulsion, to see what
lies behind it. In this process, he (i) affirms that the repetition seems to be an effort to
“bind” painful experiences. These experiences are regarded as states of being flooded
with excitation. He argues that before discharging this excitation (in accordance with
the pleasure principle), and in order to do so, the process of binding it is necessary. (ii)
He points to the instinctual nature of the repetitive compulsive tendency to bind (35).
(iii) He then speculates that all instincts are compulsively repetitive, aiming to
restore an earlier state of things which the living entity has been obliged to abandon under the
pressure of external disturbing forces; … the expression of the inertia inherent in organic
life. (36)

That is, Freud argues that counter to the commonly accepted view that instincts impel
“towards change and development,” we must recognize that, in fact, they are “an
expression of the conservative nature of living substance” (36).
(c) Freud reflects on the death-like nature of life. If, as Freud suggests, the instincts are
conservative, they would pull towards an original inorganic state from which they first
emerged. Freud explains:
16 R. B. BLASS

The elementary living entity would from its very beginning have had no wish to change; if
conditions remained the same, it would do no more than constantly repeat the same
course of life. … it is possible to specify this final goal of all organic striving … it must be an
old state of things, an initial state from which the living entity has at one time or other
departed and to which it is striving to return by the circuitous paths along which its develop-
ment leads. … we shall be compelled to say that “the aim of all life is death” … (38)

Accordingly, life and living development would come from disturbances and influences
originating outside of the individual.
The attributes of life were at some time evoked in inanimate matter by the action of a force of
whose nature we can form no conception. … It was still an easy matter at that time for a living
substance to die; the course of its life was probably only a brief one, whose direction was
determined by the chemical structure of the young life. For a long time, perhaps, living sub-
stance was thus being constantly created afresh and easily dying, till decisive external influ-
ences altered in such a way as to oblige the still surviving substance to diverge ever more
widely from its original course of life and to make ever more complicated détours before
reaching its aim of death. These circuitous paths to death, faithfully kept to by the conserva-
tive instincts, would thus present us to-day with the picture of the phenomena of life. (38–39)

(d) The ego instincts serve death. Freud explains:

Seen in this light, the theoretical importance of the instincts of self-preservation, of self-asser-
tion and of mastery greatly diminishes. They are component instincts whose function it is to
assure that the organism shall follow its own path to death, and to ward off any possible ways
of returning to inorganic existence other than those which are immanent in the organism
itself. We have no longer to reckon with the organism’s puzzling determination (so hard to
fit into any context) to maintain its own existence in the face of every obstacle. What we
are left with is the fact that the organism wishes to die only in its own fashion. (39)

In this context it should be noted that the binding of painful and traumatic experience may
now be regarded as only a preliminary step towards discharge of stimulation according to
the pleasure principle, with its ultimate aim being death (62–63).
(e) Speculation on the nature of the sexual instincts and the source of life. With all instincts,
even the self-preservative ego instincts, being conservative, pulling back towards an orig-
inal inanimate state, the source of life becomes something of a mystery and Freud expli-
citly invites readers to open their minds to speculation on this, going “beyond” the
empirical facts. Freud’s speculation ultimately leads him to recognize the sexual instincts
as the source of life, as an expression of Eros “which holds all living things together” (52).
This is not, as one might have expected, because of the reproductive function of the
instincts per se, but because of their inherently relational nature. Freud turns to two meta-
phors to expound his ideas in this regard, one from biology and the other from mythology.
For the biological metaphor Freud turns to detailed biological research (which he pre-
sents extensively), focusing on processes of coalescence of uni-cellular organisms, which
seems to lend them “immortality.” He writes, for example:
If two of the animalculae, at the moment before they show signs of senescence, are able to
coalesce with each other, that is to “conjugate” (soon after which they once more separate),
they are saved from growing old and become “rejuvenated.” (48)

Other studies on which Freud relies suggest that conjugation is a source of life only when it is
between organisms that sufficiently differ. He explains that it was conclusively proven that
 INT J PSYCHOANAL 17

it was only the products of its own metabolism which had fatal results for the particular kind of
animalcule. For the same animalculae which inevitably perished if they were crowded
together in their own nutrient fluid flourished in a solution which was over-saturated with
the waste products of a distantly related species. An infusorian, therefore, if it is left to
itself, dies a natural death. (Ibid.)

What Freud here proposes is that life comes from a kind of sexual encounter with an other
—death from “stewing in one’s own juice.” Later Freud elaborates on this metaphor and
explains why this may be the case:
The experiments upon protista have already shown us that conjugation—that is, the coalesc-
ence of two individuals which separate soon afterwards without any subsequent cell-division
occurring—has a strengthening and rejuvenating effect upon both of them. In later gener-
ations they show no signs of degenerating and seem able to put up a longer resistance to
the injurious effects of their own metabolism. This single observation may, I think, be taken
as typical of the effect produced by sexual union as well. But how is it that the coalescence
of two only slightly different cells can bring about this renewal of life? The experiment
which replaces the conjugation of protozoa by the application of chemical or even of mech-
anical stimuli (cf. Lipschütz 1914) enables us to give what is no doubt a conclusive reply to this
question. The result is brought about by the influx of fresh amounts of stimulus. This tallies
well with the hypothesis that the life process of the individual leads for internal reasons to
an abolition of chemical tensions, that is to say, to death, whereas union with the living sub-
stance of a different individual increases those tensions, introducing what may be described as
fresh “vital differences” which must then be lived off. (55)

For the mythical metaphor regarding the sexual relationship as a source of life, Freud turns
to Plato. He does so in his effort to explain how sexual instincts can be thought to have a
conservative nature (as Freud has been claiming regarding all instincts) despite the fact
that they involve unions with others (rather than something associated with a return to
an inanimate state). Freud in this context describes a myth regarding human nature that
Plato puts in the mouth of Aristophanes in the Symposium. According to this myth, along-
side man and woman there originally was a third sex that consisted of the union of the two.
Everything about these primaeval men was double: they had four hands and four feet, two
faces, two privy parts, and so on. Eventually Zeus decided to cut these men in two, “like a
sorb-apple which is halved for pickling.” After the division had been made, “the two parts
of man, each desiring his other half, came together, and threw their arms about one
another eager to grow into one.” (57–58)

This myth, by positing that the original state of being is one of relatedness, allows Freud to
maintain that sexual instincts bring about union and yet still are conservative.
Taken together, it may be seen that in Beyond the Pleasure Principle Freud introduces a
model of narcissism that immediately ties it to death. According to this model, narcissism
is inherently a state of stagnation. New life comes from reaching beyond oneself. Indeed,
Freud explains, man naturally repeats painful experiences, including those of narcissistic inju-
ries of childhood, in order to own it and think it. This is what is involved in the process of
binding. And this process builds up the ego, temporarily putting aside the aim of attaining
pleasure. But this ego-building process, like the processes of “self-preservation, of self-asser-
tion and of mastery,” is, according to Freud, ultimately determined by “component instincts
whose function it is to assure that the organism shall follow its own path to death” (1920, 39).
Life, in contrast, ultimately comes from without. Its source is in an encounter with another and
18 R. B. BLASS

relies on the difference of that other from oneself; it emerges in an act of conjugation, which
revives and rejuvenates us. That is, while the structures of binding lead to death, those of
union, the work of Eros, lead to what Freud refers to as immortality. In fact, it is in the act of
union with another that the person truly becomes himself (as suggested in the Greek myth).6
It may now be seen how this model of the death instinct enriches and grounds our
understanding of the Kleinian approach to narcissism. The destructive nature of the
denial of the object that is at the heart of that approach is better understood within a fra-
mework that posits openness to the other and union with him as the very meaning and
source of life; a framework in which self-sufficiency is death, or at least a step towards
it. From this perspective, the denial of the object is the very essence of stagnation: it
cannot be understood or accepted as another way of being or living, nor, counter to
some views, does it need to be violent or openly destructive for it to be deathly. Silent
denial of the object kills too, as can repetition compulsion, which in this context is
intimately tied not only to the death instinct but also to the attempt to deal with narcis-
sistic injury.
Moreover, Freud’s model clarifies and grounds the nature of the harm to self of the nar-
cissistic annihilation of the object. As we have seen, in narcissistic relations the object and
one’s relatedness to it are denied in order to defend against death (which in phantasy
comes with acknowledging that objects have been killed, that one is driven by envy,
that the object on whom one is dependent may die). But Freud’s model makes it clear
how this denial, this annihilation of the reality of the object, is precisely a state of
death. In addition to the damage to the self that may come from the destruction of the
object in denial, a necessary source of the self’s vitality is removed. In a sense, Freud
here provides the inner world reality of the patient’s phantasy of annihilation in the
narcissistic relationship.

Conclusion
Kleinian thinking is firmly grounded in that of Freud (Blass 2011, 2012, 2015, 2016, 2017,
2018) and, consequently, its understanding is deepened when considered in the light of
Freud’s foundational ideas. In this process the contribution of these foundational ideas
is also brought to the fore. In the present paper this was demonstrated through a close
study of Kleinian thinking on narcissism and its relationship to Freud’s notion of the life
and death instincts.

References
Auchincloss, E. L., and E. Samberg. 2012. Psychoanalytic Terms and Concepts. Observing Ego. In
(2016). PEP Consolidated Psychoanalytic Glossary: O. PEP Consolidated Psychoanalytic Glossary, 1.
Bell, D. L. 2015. “The Death Drive: Phenomenological Perspectives in Contemporary Kleinian Theory.”
The International Journal of Psychoanalysis 96: 411–423.

6
It may be suggested that Freud’s very speculative stance in this book, which he both acknowledges and encourages in his
readers, his claim that on these matters of life and death one must go beyond what is known clinically and turn to meta-
phors from other fields, in some respects exemplifies his non-narcissistic position in the area of thought. In this context,
Freud’s last line in the book is of special interest. Following comments on the limitations of his speculations, he humbly
concludes, citing a translation of an excerpt from al-Hariri, “What we cannot reach flying we must reach limping … The
Book tells us it is no sin to limp” (64).
 INT J PSYCHOANAL 19

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