Fromm's Impact on Interpersonal Psychoanalysis: A Well Kept Secret

Erich Fromm was one of the founders of the William Alanson White Institute in New York City and an important contributor to the development of the interpersonal approach to psychoanalysis. Many of Fromm's ideas about psychoanalysis have found their way into the mainstream of analytic thinking. Much of what he taught in supervision and in his lectures had to do with the role of the analyst, the analyst's use of himself in the analytic process and the necessity that the analyst experience what his patient is experiencing. From did not necessarily use terms like projective identification but his understanding presaged much of what analysts talk about today. Fromm himself did not write much about clinical practice. And while he repeatedly expressed his respect for Freud he was explicit in his disagreements. Fromm rejected the notion of the analyst as a blank mirror. Instead, analysis requires a passionate wish for truth both in the analysand and the analyst. Fromm calls this passion biophilic, implying that the unconscious does not only harbor destructive drives that need to be tamed; it also harbors creative drives which, while also irrational, are constructive and need be liberated through the analysis.     

Destruction reconceived: On Winnicott's ‘The Use of an Object and Relating through Identifications’

‘The Use of an Object and Relating through Identifications’ is a landmark contribution that I find very difficult to write about because so much of what lies at its core is merely suggested. It is necessary for the reader not only to read the paper, but also to write it. In my reading/writing of the paper, the mother becomes real for the infant in the process of his actually destroying her as an external object (destroying her sense of herself as an adequate mother), and his perceiving that destruction. She also becomes a real external object for the infant in the process of his experiencing the psychological work involved in surviving destruction, a form of work that does not occur in the world of fantasied objects. The analyst or mother may not be able to survive destruction. It is essential that the analyst be able to acknowledge to himself his inability to survive and, if necessary, to end the analysis because of the very damaging effects for both patient and analyst of prolonged experience of this sort. The author presents clinical discussions of analyses in which the analyst survives destruction and is unable to survive destruction.     

Creative Writing as Resistance and Discovery in an Analysis

This paper was originally written as a graduation paper for the completion of adult analytic training. In this paper I trace and explore multiple uses of creative writing in my personal analysis, illuminating the development of analytic phases and process. The creative writing used in this paper is primarily from the first three and a half years of my analysis, well before entering analytic training. It is an eventual interpretation on the part of my analyst, as well as the rest of my analysis and analytic training, that allow me to realize that while my writing felt like self-discovery, it also served as resistance, defense against the entirety of my affective world and internal conflicts. A poem written much later in the analysis is included, as it reveals the integration of struggled with concepts, as well as the pain of the inevitable separation of termination.     

How I became a Jungian analyst

This paper is a reflection on the significance of 80 years of my life and the 40 years of it I have spent working as a Jungian analyst in Europe and in Israel. If my Jewish identity and my experience of the tragic events of the Holocaust have profoundly influenced the course of my life, it has been my training as a Jungian analyst in Zürich that permitted me to establish a new relationship with the traditional Jewish symbols and created the possibility of a new way of experiencing what it means to be a Jew. This new understanding has in turn helped me both in my work with Holocaust survivors and victims of Israel's various wars and in my theoretical reflections on this subject.     

What is “Good” Technique? How to Teach it? Personal Reflections on Psychoanalytic Training

There is an intense interest in the interactional process across the varying psychoanalytic schools of thought. The analytic relationship itself, in all of its complexity, is the vehicle for our work. These advances raise the question of what we mean by technique these days, a question that has implications for analytic training and supervision. In this paper, the author reflects back on his analytic training experience, specifically at how two of his supervisors regarded technique, how it was taught, and the various ways in which it was communicated. In looking back at these supervisory experiences, the author examines how these teaching analysts embodied some of what they had to teach. The author shows what was mutative across these training experiences in terms of what was needed in order to grow—what facilitated his own development as an analyst and contributed towards the cultivation of his own style.     

PSYCHOTHERAPY AS PHASE-SPECIFIC INTERACTION

I am writing this paper to help myself, and hopefully some readers, to a better understanding of why some analysands in certain phases of the analysis develop the idea that they are homosexuals or that their analyst is homosexual. My basic thought is that even if these ideas have their individual roots and differ from case to case, they are also dependent on certain phenomena that are included in the analytic encounter and specified by different gender constellations constituting the analytic couple. I will present two examples from my own practice. From these two vignettes, I will draw some conclusions which are supported by my general psychoanalytic experience. The first example concerns male analysands. I have often seen male patients develop the fantasy that they “in reality” are homosexual. This fantasy is so common that it is a rule in my experience. I see it as a product of the fact that the psychoanalytic constellation consists, as in my case, of two men. The second example concerns female analysands. In a few cases with female analysands, I have seen the fantasy emerge that I, the analyst, am homosexual—a fantasy not seen in my male cases. Another difference is that I can't see this as a rule like the fantasy of the male analysands. In both the male and the female cases, I see the homosexual fantasies as a protection against discovery of the mother-transference to me. However, the fantasies have found different expressions depending on the specific gender constellation of the analytic couple: man and man and woman and man, respectively.     

On becoming a psychoanalyst

One has the opportunity and responsibility to become an analyst in one's own terms in the course of the years of practice that follow the completion of formal analytic training. The authors discuss their understanding of some of the maturational experiences that have contributed to their becoming analysts in their own terms. They believe that the most important element in the process of their maturation as analysts has been the development of the capacity to make use of what is unique and idiosyncratic to each of them; each, when at his best, conducts himself as an analyst in a way that reflects his own analytic style; his own way of being with, and talking with, his patients; his own form of the practice of psychoanalysis. The types of maturational experiences that the authors examine include situations in which they have learned to listen to themselves speak with their patients and, in so doing, begin to develop a voice of their own; experiences of growth that have occurred in the context of presenting clinical material to a consultant; making self-analytic use of their experience with their patients; creating/discovering themselves as analysts in the experience of analytic writing (with particular attention paid to the maturational experience involved in writing the current paper); and responding to a need to keep changing, to be original in their thinking and behavior as analysts.     

The trial period and the creation of analytic patients

Just as there are many roads to Rome, the trial period may be considered one of many opening moves in psychotherapy or psychoanalysis. The responsive – and responsible – therapist must be many things to many patients, some of whom know nothing about the psychotherapeutic/analytic process. Freud advocated the trial period to help him take a “sounding” when he knew little about the patient and when the patient knew little about psychoanalysis. R.I.P.? This brief communication laments the apparent demise of this promising procedure and makes an effort at resurrection by describing the hitherto unmapped latent structure of the trial period. Even if there are fewer patients in psychoanalysis today, there may be a number of reasons to recommend a trial period, no matter what we name this period of optimistic uncertainty at the beginning of every treatment. Even if “consultation” is the term de jour, the psychoanalytic psychotherapist cannot escape certain role responsibilities at the beginning of every treatment, which has been made clear in the ethical principles of the American Psychoanalytic Association. What we will learn about the trial period should serve our understanding of what must also occur in the beginning of every psychotherapy or psychoanalysis. Conceptually, I propose that a trial analysis (1) will serve as a discriminative stimulus, signaling, to the patient, the unique nature of the analytic conversation; (2) will permit an in vivo assessment of the patient's suitability for psychoanalysis, and, more importantly, the fit between analyst and patient; (3) will provide anticipatory socialization for the unfamiliar and difficult roles of patient and therapist within the analytic process; (4) will offer true informed consent about the task facing therapist and patient; and (5) will facilitate an opportunity for therapeutic assessment, all of which will help the naive patient acquire the skills and lived experience to become an analytic patient. The trial period is the perfect host for all that must happen – and what we can do– to help naive patients become analytic patients.     

Getting in Tune: Songs of My Experience in Psychoanalytic Training

I use the metaphor of music and dance to explore cognitive, affective, and liminal elements of my training experiences in the New York University Post doctoral Program in Psychoanalysis. I highlight experiences with supervisors and patients, which shaped the development of my identity as an analyst, and the emergence of my analytic voice within a relational paradigm.     

Faith and the practising analyst

Abstract: In this brief essay, I reflect on three questions: What is ‘faith’ in a modern and post‐modern cultural context? Do I, a Jungian analyst, have ‘faith’ or do I not? Does having ‘faith’ or not make a difference in the practice of analysis? I make reference to Jung's understanding of ‘faith’ and his frequent disclaimers about making metaphysical claims. I conclude that a post‐credal ‘faith’ is possible for contemporary Jungian analysts, that I do have such a faith personally, and that in my experience this makes a significant difference in analytic practice at least with some patients. Traditional faith statements must be translated into depth psychological terms, however, in order for them to be applicable in post‐modern, multicultural contexts.     

What's true and whose idea was it?

In this paper, the author explores the idea that psychoanalysis at its core involves an effort on the part of patient and analyst to articulate what is true to an emotional experience in a form that is utilizable by the analytic pair for purposes of psychological change. Building upon the work of Bion, what is true to human emotional experience is seen as independent of the analyst's formulation of it. In this sense, we, as psychoanalysts, are not inventors of emotional truths, but participant observers and scribes. And yet, in the very act of thinking and giving verbally symbolic 'shape' to what we intuit to be true to an emotional experience, we alter that truth. This understanding of what is true underlies the analytic conception of the therapeutic action of interpretation: in interpreting, the analyst verbally symbolizes what he feels is true to the patient's unconscious experience and, in so doing, alters what is true and contributes to the creation of a potentially new experience with which the analytic pair may do psychological work. These ideas are illustrated in a detailed discussion of an analytic session. The analyst makes use of his reverie experience-for which both and neither of the members of the analytic pair may claim authorship-in his effort to arrive at tentative understandings of what is true to the patient's unconscious emotional experience at several junctures in the session.     

Incognito or not? the patient's subjective experience of the analyst's private life

This paper examines the meaning for the patient of the analyst's personal life and personality which are ostensibly banished from the consulting room. The therapist has a not‐always‐so‐secret “secret life”; that the patient is supposed to “not know”; about. Yet, more or less unconscious perceptions, impressions, and fantasies about extratherapeutic aspects of the analyst are omnipresent and significantly color the psychoanalytic enterprise.

Moreover the analyst as a person generally plays a critical and underacknowledged role in the patient's experience of the endeavor. Constructing multiple overlapping images of the analyst and of the analytic relationship, the patient discovers himself or herself in the matrix of these relationships with various images of the analytic other. The analysand is motivated to make sense of the analyst as wholly as possible, the better to place into context the analyst's interventions. The patient's resulting view of the analyst's subjective experience acts as a lens that filters and subtly alters the meaning of the analyst's communications.

I illustrate these points by relating my work with a patient whose dreams uncannily picked up on a (consciously) unknown aspect of my private life—my having a handicapped son. The treatment thereafter centered on the patient's identification with my child (as someone “disabled") and on the meaning of her having dreamt something so personal about her therapist.     

Seeking an Analytic Identity

Abstract

Rothstein has stimulated all analysts to rethink how we can better commit ourselves to our analytic work. In this paper I focus on factors in analysts' personalities and experiences in their training and practice that contribute to or distract from establishing an analytic identity.

First, I explore analysts' background and motivation. In admissions to psychoanalytic institutes we look for candidates who can see psychoanalysis as an intellectual puzzle to be solved and an emotional involvement to be experienced. We look for earlv conflicts that the candidate can sublimate in the service of analytic functioning. We assume that the capacity to sublimate is only partial and that analysts in their development continue to recognize conflicts in transference—countertransference reactions.

Second, I give some examples of experiences from analysts' training that stimulate the formation of their analytic identities. These include transient identifications and counter-identifications with the training analyst, supervisor, seminar leader, and favorite analytic authors.

Third, I discuss more external factors that influence the development of analytic identity. These include the climate in training and continuing education at the institute. How much does the institute support its members in immersion in psychoanalysis? Economic factors continue to he an important factor in determining individual choice in this immersion.

Finally, I review studies on the effectiveness of psychoanalysis. Dedicated analysts with considerable experience believe that analysis works despite some limitations. Part of high motivation to continue analytic work includes understanding how analytic results differ from the simpler solutions achieved by nonanalytic therapies.     

The Writing Process: Three First Grade Teachers and Their Students Reflect on What was Learned

The purpose of this study was to describe what three first grade teachers and their students in a Midwestern school learned when engaged in the writing process. The teachers and their students were observed for one year while engaged in the writing process via a workshop environment. Different data sources were collected over time, i.e., individual interviews (teacher and student), student writing samples and anecdotal observational notes. From an analysis of the data, three categories emerged that described what the teachers and students learned: (a) First grade children can and do want to write; (b) Learning is a messy process that takes time; and (c) Empowerment is important for all. This study supported what is known about the importance of professional development that allows for individual learning over time. The teachers had time to reflect on their learning in a collaborative teaching environment. Their successes greatly affected the students' interest and engagement in their writing programs.     

Receiving the Gift of Teaching: From ‘Learning From’ to ‘Being Taught By’

This paper is an enquiry into the meaning of teaching. I argue that as a result of the influence of constructivist ideas about learning on education, teaching has become increasingly understood as the facilitation of learning rather than as a process where teachers have something to give to their students. The idea that teaching is immanent to learning goes back to the Socratic idea of teaching as a maieutic process, that is, as bringing out what is already there. Against the maieutic conception of teaching I argue for an understanding of teaching in terms of transcendence, where teaching brings something radically new to the student. I explore the meaning of the idea of transcendence through a discussion of Kierkegaard and Levinas, who both criticise the maieutic understanding of teaching and, instead, argue for a transcendent understanding of teaching—an understanding of teaching which they refer to as ‘revelation.’ Whereas Kierkegaard argues that revelation—which he understand as a process of ‘double truth giving’—lies beyond the power of the teacher, Levinas interprets revelation as the experience of ‘being taught.’ I use Levinas’s suggestion in order to explore the distinction between ‘learning from’ and ‘being taught by’ and argue that teaching has to be understood in the latter sense, that is, in terms of the experience of ‘being taught.’ To connect the idea of teaching to the experience of ‘being taught’ highlights that teaching can be understood as a process of ‘truth giving’ albeit that (1) this ‘gift’ lies beyond the powers of the teacher, and (2) the truth that is given, has to be understood in terms of what Kierkegaard calls ‘subjective truth’—which is not relativistic truth but existential truth, that is, truth that matters for one’s life. Understanding teaching in these terms also opens up new possibilities for understanding the role of authority in teaching. While my argument implies that teachers cannot simply and straightforwardly ‘produce’ the experience of ‘being taught’—so that what matters has to do with the conditions under which the gift of teaching can be received—their actions and activities nonetheless matter. In the final section of the paper I therefore argue that if we want to give teaching back to education, we need to resist the depiction of the teacher as a disposable and dispensable ‘resource’ that students can learn from or not, and need to articulate and enact a different story about the teacher, the student and the school.     

Response to Safran: The Development of Critical Psychoanalytic Sensibility

Jeremy D. Safran feels that my views regarding the relative merits of case studies and systematic empirical research are unnecessarily polarizing. I feel that, on the contrary, I'm offering bridges between my perspective and those of researchers on psychoanalytic process and outcome in two ways. One is through my own constructivist critique of traditional positivist case studies and theorizing based upon clinical experience. The second is through conceptualizing the place of systematic research within a constructivist paradigm. I am arguing that its place can be no different than that of case studies. Both generate possibilities for any particular analyst or analytic therapist to have in mind as he or she works with a particular patient at a particular moment. Safran locates the destructive effects of scientism with “biologically oriented researchers and cognitive therapists.” In my view, it might be convenient if the problem could be located exclusively with them, but the fact is that psychoanalytic researchers, as I demonstrate, are working largely within the same paradigm as their adversaries in the research world. That paradigm erroneously privileges systematic research as hypothesis-testing, whereas case studies are relegated to the status of anecdotal, hypothesis-generating work. I describe what I call “nonlinear constructivist learning” as the kind of “generalization” that case studies can yield and that is optimal for our field.     

Field of Vision: Radical Uncertainty and the Analyst's Conduct: Commentary on Paper by Donnel B. Stern

There is a relationship between biography and theory. The analyst's ideas or formulations about his patients—theories really—must be determined, to some degree, by the certain and uncertain impact of his own history. Harry Stack Sullivan brought psychoanalysis squarely into the ambit of the relational/historical world by insisting that the mind is thoroughly and inherently social. In doing so, he staked a claim for the link between history, that is, social experience, and personhood. Our personalities and our theories are social-historical constructions. In relation to this, some differences between the interpersonal/relational and Bionian concepts of field theory are provided. One important difference pertains to the role of the analyst's conduct. Two meanings of conduct—to behave or to organize behavior—are at the center of what distinguishes the interpersonal/relational view of the analyst's position in the field from the Bionian view. For the relational analyst, action in the analytic field, including enactment, is conduct, and conduct is always bidirectional. The analyst, then, is a medium to alter, to reconstruct the self. He does not provide experience, he is experience. The form of an analytic exchange gives shape to the field and its content.     

“What Do These Analysts Want?” A Response to Levine and Wilson on Desire and Influence

The target paper had the purpose of drawing attention to something “beyond countertransference”—the impact of the therapist’s psychology on the treatment, not in reaction to the patient, but as desires and defenses that operate throughout. The illustrative issue was a speculation that my development and analytic engagement carried elements that led me to interact with women patients in a way that increased the likelihood of their conceiving. The respondents reacted differently to the provocative aspect of this idea, but have in common a recognition of the analyst’s desire as an important part of the relationship. A further case vignette is introduced in this reply to examine some of the points raised by the respondents, in particular how the analyst’s desire may be expressed in a form that is modulated by the analytic role and at the same time has an impact on the patient’s life decisions. In sum, we are players in the drama of analytic work, and the more we think about what and how we are ourselves in treatments, the more informed our inevitable impact will be.     

The mind beyond our immediate awareness: Freudian, Jungian, and cognitive models of the unconscious

Abstract: Several branches of cognitive science now focus on the nature of the unconscious. This paper explores some of the findings and models from this research. By introducing formulations based on non‐clinical data, the cognitive scientists—in neural linguistics, computational modelling, and neuroscience—may depart from the older psychoanalytic formulations. An understanding of unconscious neural processes is nevertheless emerging showing how synapses are modified by experience and how learning, conscious and unconscious, is due to this important aspect of brain plasticity. Freud and Jung's formulations about the unconscious psyche, representing the main tenets of depth psychology, are also based on a conception of the mind as extending beyond immediate awareness. However, their models are more hypothetical in that their data, almost exclusively, come from treatments of psychotherapy patients and their verbal accounts. So how do these two conceptions of the unconscious match, where do they differ? And how does the neural understanding in the present research support theories and practices of analytic treatments?