The reader will now, indeed, be inclined to agree to the possibility of certain cases of neurosis having such a significance but will nevertheless be ready to deny an expediency that is so far-reaching and full of meaning to ordinary cases of this illness. What value, for instance, might there be in the afore-mentioned case of asthma and hysterical attacks of fear? I confess that the value here is not so obvious, especially if the case be looked at from the standpoint of a reductive theory, that is, from that of a chronique scandaleuse of the psychological development of an individual.
We perceive that both the theories hitherto discussed have this one point in common, viz. they relentlessly disclose everything that is valueless in people. They are theories, or rather hypotheses, which explain wherein the cause of the sickness lies. They are accordingly concerned not with the values of a person, but with his lack of value that makes itself evident in a disturbing way. From this point of view, it is possible to be reconciled to both standpoints.
A "value" is a possibility by means of which energy may attain development. But in so far as a negative value is also a possibility through which energy may attain development—as may, for instance, be clearly seen in the very considerable manifestations of energy shown in neurosis—it also stands for a value, albeit it brings about manifestations of energy which are useless and harmful. In itself energy is neither useful nor harmful, neither full of value nor lacking in it; it is indifferent, everything depending upon the form into which it enters. The form gives the quality to the energy. On the other side, mere form without energy is also indifferent. Therefore in order to bring about a positive value, on the one hand energy is necessary, and upon the other a valuable form. In a neurosis psychic energy is undoubtedly present, but in an inferior and not realisable form. Both the analytic methods that have been discussed above are of service only as solvents of this inferior form. They prove themselves good here as caustics.
By these methods we gain energy that is certainly free, but which, being as yet unapplied, is indifferent. Hitherto the supposition prevailed, that this newly acquired energy was at the patient's conscious disposal, that he might apply it in any way he liked. In so far as it was thought that the energy was nothing but the sexual impulse, people spoke of a sublimated application of the same, under the presumption that the patient could, without further ado, transfer what was thought of as sexual energy into a "sublimation"; that is, into a non-sexual form of use. It might, for instance, be transferred to the cultivation of an art, or to some other good or useful activity. According to this concept, the patient had the possibility of deciding, either arbitrarily or from inclination, how his energy should be sublimated.
This conception may be accorded a justification for its existence, in so far as it is at all possible for a human being to assign a definite direction to his life, in which its course should run. But we know that there is no human forethought nor philosophy which can enable us to give our lives a prescribed direction, except for quite a short distance. Destiny lies before us, perplexing us, and teeming with possibilities, and yet only one of these many possibilities is our own particular right way. Who should presume to designate the one possibility beforehand, even though he have the most complete knowledge of his own character that a man can have? Much can certainly be attained by means of will-power. But having regard to the fate of certain personalities with particularly strong wills, it is entirely misleading for us to want at all costs to change our own fate by power of will. Our will is a function that is directed by our powers of reflection; it depends, therefore, upon how our powers of reflection are constituted. In order to deserve its name reflection must be rational, that is, according to reason. But has it ever been proved, or can it ever be proved, that life and destiny harmonise with our human reason, that is, that they are exclusively rational? On the contrary, we have ground for supposing that they are also irrational, that is to say, that in the last resort they too are based in regions beyond the human reason. The irrationality of the great process is shown by its so-called accidentalness, which perforce we ought to deny, since, obviously, we cannot think of a process not being causally and necessarily conditioned. But actually, accidentality exists everywhere, and does so indeed so obtrusively that we might as well pocket our causal philosophy! The rich store of life both is, and is not, determined by law; it is at the same time rational and irrational. Therefore, the reason and the will founded upon it are only valid for a short distance. The further we extend this rationally chosen direction, the surer we may be that we are thereby excluding the irrational possibilities of life, which have, however, just as good a right to be lived. Aye, we even injure ourselves, since we cut off the wealth of accidental eventualities by a too rigid and conscious direction. It was certainly very expedient for man to be able to give his life a direction; it would, therefore, be quite right to maintain that the attainment of reasonableness was the greatest achievement of mankind. But that is not to say that under all circumstances, this must or will always continue to be the case. The present fearful catastrophic world-war has tremendously upset the most optimistic upholder of rationalism and culture.
In 1913 Ostwald wrote[236] as follows: "The whole world agrees that the present state of armed peace is untenable, and is gradually becoming an impossible condition. It demands tremendous sacrifices from individual nations far surpassing the outlay for cultural purposes, without any positive values being gained thereby. Therefore, if mankind could discover ways and means of putting an end to these preparations for a war that will never come, this conscripting of a considerable part of the nation at the best and most capable age for training for war purposes, if it could overcome all the innumerable other injuries caused by the present customs, such an enormous saving of energy would be effected, that an undreamt-of development of the evolution of culture might be expected. For like a hand-to-hand fight, war is the oldest, and also the most unsuitable of all possible means of solving a conflict between wills, being indeed accompanied by the most deplorable waste of energy. The complete setting aside of potential as well as of actual warfare is, therefore, absolutely one of the most important tasks of culture in our time, a real necessity from the point of view of energy."
But the irrationality of destiny ordained otherwise than the rationality of the well-meaning thinker; since it not only determined to use the piled-up weapons and soldiers, but much more than that, it brought about a tremendous insane devastation and unparalleled slaughter. From this catastrophe humanity may possibly draw the conclusion, that only one side of fate can be mastered by rational intention.
What can be said of mankind in general applies also to individuals, for mankind as a whole consists of nothing but individuals. And whatever the psychology of mankind is, that is also the psychology of the individual. We are experiencing in the world-war a fearful balancing-up with the rational intentionality of organised culture. What is called "will" in the individual, is termed "imperialism" among nations, for the will is a demonstration of power over fate, that is, exclusion of what is accidental. The organisation of culture is a rational and "expedient" sublimation of free and indifferent energies, brought about by design and intention. The same is the case in the individual. And just as the hope of a universal international organisation of culture has experienced a cruel right-about through this war, so also must the individual, in the course of his life, often find that so-called "disposable" energies do not suffer themselves to be disposed of.
I was once consulted by a business man of about forty-five, whose case is a good illustration of the foregoing. He was a typical American self-made man, who had worked himself up from the bottom. He had been successful, and had founded a very extensive business. He had also gradually organised the business in such a way that he could now retire from its management. He had indeed resigned two years before I saw him. Until then he had only lived for his business, concentrating all his energy upon it, with that incredible intensity and one-sidedness that is so peculiar to the successful American man of business. He had bought himself a splendid country seat, where he thought he would "live," which he imagined to mean keeping horses, automobiles, playing golf and tennis, attending and giving parties, etc. But he had reckoned without his host. The energy that had become "disposable" did not enter into these tempting prospects, but betook itself capriciously to quite other ways. A couple of weeks after the commencement of his longed-for life of bliss, he began to brood over peculiar vague physical sensations. A few more weeks sufficed to plunge him into an unprecedented state of hypochondria. His nerves broke down completely. He, who was physically an uncommonly strong and exceptionally energetic man, became like a whining child. And that put an end to all his paradise. He fell from one apprehension to another, worrying himself almost to death. He then consulted a celebrated specialist, who immediately perceived quite rightly that there was nothing wrong with the man but lack of employment. The patient saw the sense of this, and betook himself to his former position. But to his great disappointment no interest for his business presented itself. Neither the application of patience nor determination availed to help. His energy would not by any means be forced back into the business. His condition naturally became worse than before. Energy that hitherto had been actively creative was now turned back into himself, with fearfully destructive force. His creative genius rose up, so to speak, in revolt against him, and instead of, as before, producing great organisations in the world, his demon now created equally clever systems of hypochondriac fallacies, by which the man was absolutely crushed. When I saw him, he was already a hopeless moral ruin. I tried to make clear to him that such a gigantic amount of energy might indeed be withdrawn from business, but the problem remained as to where it should go. The finest horses, the fastest automobiles, and the most amusing parties are in themselves no inducement for energy, although it is certainly quite rational to think that a man who has devoted his whole life to serious work, has a natural right to enjoy himself. This would necessarily be the case if things happened "humanly" in destiny; first would come work, then well-earned leisure. But things happen irrationally and inconveniently enough, energy requires a congenial channel, otherwise it is dammed up and becomes destructive. My arguments met with no response, as was indeed to be expected. Such an advanced case can only be taken care of till death; it cannot be cured.
This case clearly illustrates the fact that it does not lie in our power to transfer a "disposable" energy to whatever rationally chosen object we may like. Exactly the same may be said of those apparently available energies that are made available by the fact that the psychoanalytical caustic has destroyed their unsuitable forms. These energies can be arbitrarily applied, as has already been said, at the very most only for a short time. They resist following the rationally presented possibilities for any length of time. Psychic energy is indeed a fastidious thing, that insists upon having its own conditions fulfilled. There may be ever so much energy existing, but we cannot make it useful, so long as we do not succeed in finding a congenial channel for it.