The Theory of Psychoanalysis

by C. G. Jung

I can thus roughly describe the picture I got at finally. As a child the patient was thoroughly boyish, loved only turbulent games for boys, laughed at her own sex, and flung aside all feminine ways and occupations. After puberty, the time when the sex-question should have come nearer to her, she began to shun all society; she hated and despised, as it were, everything which could remind her even remotely of the biological destination of mankind, and lived in a world of phantasies which had nothing in common with the rude reality. So she escaped, up to her twenty-fourth year, all the little adventures, hopes and expectations which ordinarily move a woman of this age. (In this respect women are very often remarkably insincere towards themselves and towards the physician.) But she became acquainted with two men who were destined to destroy the thorny hedge which had grown all around her. Mr. A. was the husband of her best friend at the time; Mr. B. was the bachelor-friend of this family. Both were to her taste. It seemed to her pretty soon that Mr. B. was much more sympathetic to her, and from this resulted a more intimate relationship between herself and him, and the possibility of an engagement was discussed. Through her relations with Mr. B., and through her friend, she met Mr. A. frequently. In an inexplicable way his presence very often excited her and made her nervous. Just at this time our friend went to a big party. All her friends were there. She became lost in thought, and played as in a dream with her ring, which suddenly slipped from her hand and rolled under the table. Both men tried to find it, and Mr. B. managed to get it. With an expressive smile he put the ring back on her finger and said: “You know what this means?” At that moment a strange and irresistible feeling came over her, she tore the ring from her finger and threw it out of the open window. Evidently a painful moment ensued, and she soon left the company, feeling deeply depressed. A short time later she found herself, for her holidays, accidentally in the same health-resort where Mr. A. and his wife were staying. Mrs. A. now became more and more nervous, and, as she felt ill, had to stay frequently at home. The patient often went out with Mr. A. alone. One day they were out in a small boat. She was boisterously merry, and suddenly fell overboard. Mr. A. saved her with great difficulty, and lifted her, half unconscious, into the boat. He then kissed her. With this romantic event the bonds were woven fast. To defend herself, our patient tried energetically to get herself engaged to Mr. B., and to imagine that she loved him. Of course this queer play did not escape the sharp eye of feminine jealousy. Mrs. A., her friend, felt the secret, was worried by it, and her nervousness grew proportionately. It became more and more necessary for her to go to a foreign health-resort. The farewell-party was a dangerous opportunity. The patient knew that her friend and rival was going off the same evening, so Mr. A. would be alone. Certainly she did not see this opportunity clearly, as women have the notable capacity “to think” purely emotionally, and not intellectually. For this reason, it seems to them as if they never thought about certain matters at all, but as a matter of fact she had a queer feeling all the evening. She felt extremely nervous, and when Mrs. A. had been accompanied to the station and had gone, the hysterical attack occurred on her way back. I asked her of what she had been thinking, or what she felt at the actual moment when the trotting horses came along. Her answer was, she had only a frightful feeling, the feeling that something dreadful was very near to her, which she could not escape. As you know, the consequence was that the exhausted patient was brought back into the house of the host, Mr. A. A simple human mind would understand the situation without difficulty. An uninitiated person would say: “Well, that is clear enough, she only intended to return by one way or another to Mr. A.’s house,” but the psychologist would reproach this layman for his incorrect way of expressing himself, and would tell him that the patient was not conscious of the motives of her behavior, and that it was, therefore, not permissible to speak of the patient’s intention to return to Mr. A.’s house.

There are, of course, learned psychologists who are capable of furnishing many theoretical reasons for disputing the meaning of this behavior. They base their reasons on the dogma of the identity of consciousness and psyche. The psychology inaugurated by Freud recognized long ago that it is impossible to estimate psychological actions as to their final meaning by conscious motives, but that the objective standard of their psychological results has to be applied for their right evaluation. Now-a-days it cannot be contested any longer that there are unconscious tendencies too, which have a great influence on our modes of reaction, and on the effects to which these in turn give rise. What happened in Mr. A.’s house bears out this observation; our patient made a sentimental scene, and Mr. A. was induced to answer it with a declaration of love. Looked at in the light of this last event, the whole previous history seems to be very ingeniously directed towards just this end, but throughout the conscience of the patient struggled consciously against it. Our theoretical profit from this story is the clear perception that an unconscious purpose or tendency has brought on to the stage the scene of the fright from the horses, utilizing thus very possibly that infantile reminiscence, where the shying horses galloped towards the catastrophe. Reviewing the whole material, the scene with the horses—the starting point of the illness—seems now to be the keystone of a planned edifice. The fright, and the apparent traumatic effect of the event in childhood, are only brought on the stage in the peculiar way characteristic of hysteria. But what is thus put on the stage has become almost a reality. We know from hundreds of experiences that certain hysterical pains are only put on the stage in order to reap certain advantages from the sufferer’s surroundings. The patients not only believe that they suffer, but their sufferings are, from a psychological standpoint, as real as those due to organic causes; nevertheless, they are but stage-effects.

The Regression of Libido

This utilization of reminiscences to put on the stage any illness, or an apparent etiology, is called a regression of the libido. The libido goes back to reminiscences, and makes them actual, so that an apparent etiology is produced. In this case, by the old theory, the fright from the horses would seem to be based on a former shock. The resemblance between the two scenes is unmistakable, and in both cases the patient’s fright is absolutely real. At any rate, we have no reason to doubt her assertions in this respect, as they are in full harmony with all other experiences. The nervous asthma, the hysterical anxiety, the psychogenic depressions and exaltations, the pains, the convulsions—they are all very real, and that physician who has himself suffered from a psychogenic symptom knows that it feels absolutely real. Regressively re-lived reminiscences, even if they were but phantasies, are as real as remembrances of events that have once been real.

As the term “regression of libido” shows, we understand by this retrograde mode of application of the libido, a retreat of the libido to former stages. In our example, we are able to recognize clearly the way the process of regression is carried on. At that farewell party, which proved a good opportunity to be alone with the host, the patient shrank from the idea of turning this opportunity to her advantage, and yet was overpowered by her desires, which she had never consciously realized up to that moment. The libido was not used consciously for that definite purpose, nor was this purpose ever acknowledged. The libido had to carry it out through the unconscious, and through the pretext of the fright caused by an apparently terrible danger. Her feeling at the moment when the horses approached illustrates our formula most clearly; she felt as if something inevitable had now to happen.

The process of regression is beautifully demonstrated in an illustration already used by Freud. The libido can be compared with a stream which is dammed up as soon as its course meets any impediment, whence arises an inundation. If this stream has previously, in its upper reaches, excavated other channels, then these channels will be filled up again by reason of the damming below. To a certain extent they would appear to be real river beds, filled with water as before, but at the same time, they only have a temporary existence. It is not that the stream has permanently chosen the old channels, but only for as long as the impediment endures in the main stream. The affluents do not always carry water, because they were from the first, as it were, not independent streams, but only former stages of development of the main river, or passing possibilities, to which an inundation has given the opportunity for fresh existence. This illustration can directly be transferred to the development of the application of the libido. The definite direction, the main river, is not yet found during the childish development of sexuality. The libido goes instead into all possible by-paths, and only gradually does the definite form develop. But the more the stream follows out its main channel, the more the affluents will dry up and lose their importance, leaving only traces of former activity. Similarly, the importance of the childish precursors of sexuality disappears completely as a rule, only leaving behind certain traces.

If in later life an impediment arises, so that the damming of the libido reanimates the old by-paths, the condition thus excited is properly a new one, and something abnormal.

The former condition of the child is normal usage of the libido, whilst the return of the libido towards the childish past is something abnormal. Therefore, in my opinion, it is an erroneous terminology to call the infantile sexual manifestations “perversions,” for it is not permissible to give normal manifestations pathological terms. This erroneous usage seems to be responsible for the confusion of the scientific public. The terms employed in neurotic psychology have been misapplied here, under the assumption that the abnormal by-paths of the libido discovered in neurotic people are the same phenomena as are to be found in children.

The Infantile Amnesia Criticized

The so-called amnesia of childhood, which plays an important part in the “Three Contributions,” is a similar illegitimate retrograde application from pathology. Amnesia is a pathological condition, consisting in the repression of certain contents of the conscious. This condition cannot possibly be the same as the antegrade amnesia of children, which consists in an incapacity for intentional reproduction, a condition we find also among savages. This incapacity for reproduction dates from birth, and can be understood on obvious anatomical and biological grounds. It would be a strange hypothesis were we willing to regard this totally different quality of early infantile consciousness as one to be attributed to repression, in analogy with the condition in neurosis. The amnesia of neurosis is punched out, as it were, from the continuity of memory, but the remembrances of earlier childhood exist in separate islands in the continuity of the non-memory. This condition is the opposite in every sense of the condition of neurosis, so that the expression “amnesia,” generally used for this condition, is incorrect. The “amnesia of childhood” is a conclusion a posteriori from the psychology of neurosis, just as is the “polymorphic perverse” disposition of the child.