The unconscious

by Morton Prince

The Inability to Voluntarily Modify Obsessions.—We are now in a position on this theory to look a little more deeply into the structure and mechanism of an obsession and thereby realize why it is that the unfortunate victims are so helpless to modify or control them. Indeed this behavior of the setting could be cited as another piece of circumstantial evidence for the theory that the setting is largely unconscious and that only a few elements of it enter the field of consciousness. If we simply explain to a person who has a true obsession, i.e., an insistent idea with a strong feeling tone, the falsity of the point of view, the explanation in many cases at least has no or little effect in changing the viewpoint, though the patient admits the correctness of the explanation. The patient cannot modify his idea even if he will. But if the original complex, which is hidden in the unconscious and which gives rise to the meaning of the idea, is discovered, and so altered that it takes on a new meaning and different feeling tones, the patient’s conscious idea becomes modified and ceases to be insistent. This would imply that the insistent idea is only an element in a larger unconscious complex which is the setting and unconsciously determines the viewpoint. The reason why the patient cannot voluntarily alter his viewpoint becomes intelligible by this theory, because that which determines it is unconscious and unknown. He may not even know what his point of view is, owing to the meaning being in the fringe of consciousness.

If this theory of the mechanism is soundly established the difficulty of correcting obsessions becomes obvious and intelligible. It is also obvious that there are theoretically two ways in which an obsession might be corrected.

1. A new setting with strong affects may be artificially created so that the perception acquires another equally strong meaning and interest.

2. The second way theoretically would be to bring into consciousness the setting and the past experiences of which the setting is a sifted residuum, and reform it by introducing new elements, including new emotions and feelings. In this way the old setting and point of view would become transformed and a new point of view substituted which would give a new meaning to the perception.

Now in practice both these theoretical methods of destroying an obsession are found to work, although both are not always equally efficacious in the same case. In less intense obsessions where the complex composing the setting is only partially and inconsequently submerged, and to a slight degree differentiated from the mass of conscious experiences, the first and simpler method practically is amply sufficient. We might say that the greater the degree to which the setting is conscious and the less the degree to which it has acquired, as an unconscious process, independent autonomous activity the more readily it may be transformed by this method.

On the other hand in the more intense obsessions, where a greater part of the setting is unconscious, has wide ramifications and has become differentiated as an independent autonomous process, the more difficult it is to suppress it and prevent its springing into activity whenever excited by some stimulus (such as an associated idea). In such instances the second method is more efficacious. It is obvious that, so long as the setting to a central idea remains organized and conserved in the unconscious, the corresponding perception and meaning are always liable under favoring conditions (such as fatigue, ill health, etc.) to be switched into consciousness and replace the new formed perception. This means of course a recurrence. Nevertheless medical experience from the beginning of time has shown that this is not necessarily or always the case. The technique, therefore, of the treatment of obsessions will vary from “simple explanations” (Taylor) without preliminary analysis to the more complicated and varying procedures of analysis and re-education in its many forms.

Affects.—Here a word of caution in the interpretation of emotional reactions is necessary. In the building of complexes, as we have seen, an affect becomes linked to an idea through an emotional experience. The recurrence of that idea always involves the recurrence of the affect. It is not a logical necessity that the original experience which occasioned the affect should always be postulated as a continuing subconscious process to account for the affect in association with the idea. It is quite possible, if not extremely probable, that in the simpler types, at least, of the emotional complexes, the association between the idea and affect becomes so firmly established that the conscious idea alone, without the coöperation of a subconscious process, is sufficient to awake the emotion; just as in Pawlow’s dogs the artificially formed association between a tactile stimulus and the salivary glands is sufficient to excite the glands to activity, or as in human beings the idea of a ship by pure association may determine fear and nausea, the sound of running water by the force of association may excite the bladder reflex, or an ocular stimulus the so-called hay fever complex. So in word-association reactions, when a word is accompanied by an affect-reaction the word itself may be sufficient to excite the reaction without assuming that an “unconscious complex has been struck.” The total mechanism of the process we are investigating must be determined in each case for itself.

In the study and formulation of psychological phenomena there is one common tendency and danger, and that is of making the phenomena too schematic and sharply defined, as if we were dealing with material objects. Mental processes are not only plastic but shifting, varying, unstable, and undergo modifications of structure almost from moment to moment. We describe a complex schematically as if it had a fixed, immutable, and well-defined structure. This is far from being the case. Although there may be a fairly fixed nucleus, the cluster, as a whole, is ill defined and undergoes considerable modification from moment to moment. New elements enter the cluster and replace or are added to those which previously took part in the composition. An analogy might be made with a large cluster of electric lights arranged about a central predominant light, but so arranged that individual lights could be switched in and cut out of the cluster at any moment and different colored lights substituted. The composition and structure of the cluster, and the intensity and color of the light, could be varied from moment to moment, yet the cluster as a cluster maintained. We might carry the analogy farther and imagine the cluster to be an advertising sign which had a meaning—the advertisement. This meaning might or might not be altered by the changes in the individual lamps.

The same indefiniteness pertains to the demarcation between the conscious and the subconscious. What was conscious at one moment may be subconscious the next and vice versa. Under normal conditions there is a continual shifting between the conscious and subconscious. I have made numerous investigations to determine this point, and the evidence is fairly precise, and to me convincing, that this shifting continually occurs,[^[195]] as might well be inferred on theoretical grounds. Nor, excepting in special pathological and artificial dissociated conditions, is the distinction between the conscious and subconscious at any moment always sharp and precise; it is often rather a matter of vividness and shading, and whether a conscious state is in the focus of attention or in the fringe. Experimental observation confirms introspection in this respect.

In view of the foregoing we can now appreciate a fallacy which has been too commonly accepted in the interpretation of therapeutic facts. It is quite generally held that it is a necessity that the underlying unconscious complexes cannot be modified without bringing them to the “full light of day” by analysis. The facts of everyday observation do not justify this conclusion. The awakening of dormant memories of past experiences is mainly of importance for the purpose of giving us exact information of what we need to modify, not necessarily for the purpose of effecting the modification. Owing to the fluidity of complexes, whether unconscious or conscious, our conscious ideas can become incorporated in unconscious complexes. This means that any new setting in which we may incorporate our conscious ideas to give them a new meaning becomes effective in the associations which these ideas have as a dormant complex. The latter is able to assimilate from the conscious any new material offered to it. Practical therapeutics and everyday experience abundantly have shown this. I have accomplished this, and I believe every therapeutist has done the same time and again. We should be cautious not to overlook common experience in the enthusiasm for new theories and dramatic observations. The difficulty is in knowing what we want to modify, and for this purpose analytical investigations of one sort or another are of the highest assistance, because they furnish us with the required information. If we recover the memories of the unconscious complex our task is easier, as we can apply our art with the greater skill.