Freud, Jung and Psychoanalysis
Douglas A. Davis1
One repays a teacher badly if one remains only
a pupil. And why, then, should you not pluck at my laurels?
You respect me; but how if one day your respect should tumble?
Take care that a falling statue does not strike you dead! You
had not yet sought yourselves when you found me. Thus do all
believers -- Now I bid you lose me and find yourselves; and
only when you have all denied me will I return to you.
(Nietzsche, Thus
Spoke Zarathustra, quoted by Jung to Freud, 1912 [McGuire,
1974])
Freudian psychoanalysis, a related body of clinical
technique, interpretive strategy, and developmental theory, was
articulated piecemeal in dozens of publications by Sigmund Freud,
spread over a period of forty-five years. The structure of Freud's
monumental twenty-three volume corpus of work has been the subject
of thousands of critical studies, and Freud is still one of the
most popular subjects for biographers. Despite this wealth of
writing, however, the effectiveness of Freud's therapeutic methods
and the adequacy of his theories remain subjects of animated debate.
This chapter is concerned with the status of Freud's
theorizing during his collaboration with Carl Jung, and with the
mutual influence of each thinker on the other in the years following
their estrangement. Jung's seven year discipleship with Freud
was a turning point in his emergence as a distinctive thinker
of world importance (Jung, 1961). At the beginning of his fascination
with Freud in 1906, Jung was a thirty-one year old psychiatrist
of unusual promise, with a gift for psychological research and
a prestigious junior appointment at one of Europe's major centers
for treatment of psychotic disorders (Kerr, 1993). By the time
of his break with Freud in 1913, Jung was internationally known
for his original contributions to clinical psychology and for
his forceful leadership of the psychoanalytic movement. He was
also the author of the seminal work, Transformations and Symbols
of the Libido (Jung 1912), that would define his independence
from that movement.
In another sense, Jung never fully overcame his
pivotal friendship with Freud. His subsequent work can be understood
in part as an ongoing, if unanswered, discourse with Freud. The
tensions in Jung's relationship with Freud are, in retrospect,
apparent from the first; and the drama of their intimacy and inevitable
mutual antipathy has taken on the character of tragedy, a modern
iteration of the Oedipal myth.
For his part, Sigmund Freud valued Jung as he did
no other member of the psychoanalytic movement, pressed him quickly
to assume the role of heir apparent, and revealed his (Freud's)
character to Jung in striking ways in years of impassioned friendship.
Freud seems also both to have anticipated and to some extent to
have precipitated the tensions that would undo the friendship
and the professional collaboration. Those tensions concerned the
role of sexuality in personality development and neurotic etiology
-- a topic about which Jung had been cautious from the first and
about which Freud was to become increasingly dogmatic in the context
of Jung's defection.
The story of Jung and Freud is of crucial importance
to an understanding of Freud and psychoanalysis. The theory of
erotic and aggressive transference illustrated by the Freud-Jung
relationship is, in my view, the key to understanding the importance
of each man for the other.
Freud was fifty-one when the friendship began in
1907, Jung thirty-one. Despite the difference in ages, each man
was at a turning point in his life. Jung was poised to act on
his vaunting ambition, on the brink of developing a distinctive
expression of his genius. Freud was in the process of consolidating
the insights developed over the preceding decade and eager to
foster (but not to manage actively) an international movement.
The relationship allowed Freud to free psychoanalysis from his
quarrelsome and unsatisfactory Vienna colleagues, to link it to
the international reputation of the Burghölzli Psychiatric
Clinic (via Bleuler) and to experimental psychology (through Jung's
studies of word association), and to articulate for a uniquely
qualified interlocutor his ideas about the psychodynamics of culture
and religion (Gay, 1988; Jones, 1955; Kerr, 1993). The relationship
with Freud allowed Jung to broaden his perspective on the etiology
and treatment of both neurosis and psychosis and gave him a satisfying
political role to play in the international psychoanalytic movement.
Freud's tendency to interpret the actions (and inactions)
of his colleagues in psychoanalytic terms had become well established
by the time Jung met him in the year of his fiftieth birthday.
In relation to Fliess, Ferenczi, and Jung, Freud played out conflicting
elements of his own character in his exaggerated evaluation of
each new follower's quality, in over-investment in the correspondence,
in sensitivity to rejection, and finally in bitter anger at disloyalty.
The decade of intimate friendship with Fliess in the 1890s displays
most fully both the depth of Freud's neurotic needs in friendship
and the beauty of his creative intellect as he struggles to define
himself (Masson, 1985). It is in relation to Jung, however, that
Freud's ambivalences were played out most fully and explicitly
in terms of his psychoanalytic theory and practice. Freud wrote
for Fliess during the years of his self-creation, and for Jung
in the years when his mature theory was being systematized. After
Jung there was no equal merging of professional magnanimity and
personal investment -- and after Jung the core theory of psychoanalysis
became reified around a libidinal orthodoxy regarding the role
of sexuality in personality development, neurotic etiology, and
culture.
Freud developed the theory of transference -- the
position that we all carry with us as templates for future interpersonal
relationships the residues of the most significant emotional attachments
of our childhood. He himself created a profound transferential
wake, in which most of those who became his associates found themselves
awash. Indeed, the history of psychoanalysis both as a clinical
specialty and as a field of scholarship gives ample evidence of
the transferential hold Freud continues to exert on each of us.
In the therapy Freudians would practice, seduction became metaphoric
for the whole relationship of doctor and patient. The patient
falls for an analyst whose every move (s)he will be capable of
assimilating to the erotic and aggressive possibilities of the
transference, and understanding the transference is the key to
recovery from the neurosis.
It is clear in light of their personal correspondence
and of recent studies of the concurrent clinical and family circumstances
of each that Freud and Jung were drawn together in part by unresolved
personal needs -- Freud's for a male intimate in relation to whom
he could play out his need for an alter, and Jung's for
an idealizable father figure toward whom he could direct his powerful
ambitious energy. These personal needs eventually proved deadly
to the relationship, as Jung took on increased independence and
a distinctive voice of his own and Freud interpreted this growth
as Oedipal hostility. After their parting, each man would portray
the other as prey to unanalyzed neurotic needs.
At the beginning of the friendship Freud was well
known in the psychiatric and psychological communities as the
author of an intriguing book on dreams and a controversial theory
about the role of sexuality in neurosis. His most recent works
-- Three Essays on the Theory of Sexuality (1905a) and
Fragment of an Analysis of a Case of Hysteria ["Dora"]
(1905b) -- had emphatically stated and illustrated in detail his
theories of the core role of eroticism in child development and
of the sexual metalanguage of neurosis. Freud had been severely
criticized for his claim in the Three Essays that what
the pervert compulsively does and the neurotic falls ill defending
against, every human child both wishes and (within its infantile
capacities) does.
Jung's July, 1906 preface to The Psychology of
Dementia Praecox, written just after his correspondence with
Freud began, is prescient in its assessment of the points of stress
along which the relationship would eventually split:
I can assure the reader that in the beginning
I naturally entertained all the objections that are customarily
made against Freud in the literature. ... Fairness to Freud
does not imply, as many fear, unqualified submission to a dogma;
one can very well maintain an independent judgment. If I, for
instance, acknowledge the complex mechanisms of dreams and hysteria,
this does not mean that I attribute to the infantile sexual
trauma the significance that Freud does. Still less does it
mean that I place sexuality so predominantly in the foreground,
or that I grant it the psychological universality which Freud,
it seems, postulates in view of the admittedly enormous role
which sexuality plays in the psyche. As for Freud's therapy,
it is at best but one of several possible methods, and perhaps
does not always offer in practice what one expects from it in
theory. (Jung, 1906, 3-4; Kerr, 115-116)
Freud revealed at several points in his correspondence
with Jung (a decade after the crucial events of 1897) how he had
come to conceptualize himself. On September 2, 1907, he writes
of his longing to tell Jung of his "long years of honorable but
painful solitude, which began after I cast my first glance into
the new world, about the indifference and incomprehension of my
closest friends, about the terrifying moments when I myself thought
I had gone astray and was wondering how I might still make my
misled life useful to my family" (McGuire, 1974, 82). Freud's
imagery here, as he recalls his self-analysis a decade before
and the completion of his dream book, suggests birth as well as
a voyage of exploration.
Then on September 19 he sends Jung a portrait and
a copy of his 50th birthday medallion. In his reply on October
10 Jung expresses delight with the photo and the medallion, then
expresses his anger with critics of psychoanalysis, using the
image of "the dismal face of this coin." In his characterization
of Freud's critics Jung makes a revealing slip:
[W]e know that they are poor devils, who on the
one hand are afraid of giving offense, because that might jeopardize
their careers, and on the other hand am [sic] paralyzed
by fear of their own repressed material (McGuire, 87).
Freud seems to have responded immediately to Jung's
intellectual passion, his brilliance, and his originality -- all
qualities he missed in his Viennese disciples. Jung's reading
of Freud's works was incisive, and he knew how to administer a
compliment, as in a letter after Freud's four hour presentation
of the "Rat Man" case (Freud, 1909) to the 1908 First International
Psychoanalytic Congress in Salzburg:
As to sentiments, I am still under the reverberating
impact of your lecture, which seemed to me perfection itself.
All the rest was simply padding, sterile twaddle in the darkness
of inanity (McGuire, 1974, 144).
Freud and Oedipus
During the late 1890s Freud developed most of the
core concepts for his new psychology, as evidenced by his correspondence
with Wilhelm Fliess, the Berlin physician who was his closest
adult friend and who served as the alter ego to whom Freud
divulged his struggles to understand neurosis, dreams, traumatic
memories, and the emergence of personality (Masson, 1985). Over
the course of several years Freud transformed his theorizing about
the sources and dynamics of neurotic anxiety from neurophysiological
concern with actual predisposing and concurrent causes to interpretive
investigation of fantasy and personal psychodynamics. Freud's
self-analysis following his father's death in late 1896 led to
an increased concern with dream-interpretation and to an increasingly
rich experience of mutual transferential involvement with patients
(Anzieu, 1986; Davis, 1990; Salyard, 1994). At a theoretical level
the major change in Freud's thinking during this period involved
a movement away from a causal model for the effects of childhood
trauma in the formation of adult personality and neurosis -- the
so-called "seduction theory" -- and toward psychoanalysis as a
hermeneutic discipline in which the subjective meaning of experience,
whether real or fanciful, is the basis for understanding (Davis,
1994).
In his 1899 paper, "Screen Memories, Freud shows
that apparent recall of early experiences may be determined by
unconscious links between the memory and repressed wishes, rather
than by actual events. Freud (writing as if about a male patient)
demonstrates that one of the most poignant and persistent memories
of his own childhood was a screen memory. The content of this
false memory -- playing in a field of flowers with his half-brother
Emmanuel's children John and Pauline -- allowed Freud to articulate
his neurotic need for an intimate male friend as well as the competitive
aggression such a friendship would arouse in him.
I greeted my one-year-younger brother (who died
after a few months) with adverse wishes and genuine childhood
jealousy; and . . . his death left the germ of [self-]reproaches
in me. I have also long known the companion of my misdeeds between
the ages of one and two years; it is my nephew [John], a year
older than myself. . . . The two of us seem occasionally to
have behaved cruelly to my niece, who was a year younger. This
nephew and this younger brother have determined, then, what
is neurotic, but also what is intense, in all my friendships
(Masson, 1985, 268).
Freud's voluminous correspondence with Fliess (Masson
1984) with Ferenczi, (Brabant & Giampieri-Deutch, 1993), and
with Jung (McGuire, 1974) reveals his longing for a male confident,
his anxious concern that his correspondent respond to his letters
quickly and fully, and his readiness to turn on a friend who doubts
the core assumptions of Oedipal theory. The false memory Freud
analyzed in 1899, of uniting with a boy to take flowers from a
girl, is also revealing of the extent to which his relations with
males would be mediated by shared interest in a female. Both his
rivalry and his interest in a "third" female were to play themselves
out in his relationship with Jung.
The degree to which Freud changed his mind about
the seduction theory, and his reasons for doing so, have attracted
a great deal of attention in recent years (Coleman, 1994; Garcia,
1987; Hartke, 1994; Masson, 1984; Salyard, 1988, 1992, 1994).
Most of these discussions have referred to Freud's own stated
reasons in a famous letter to Fliess from September 1897, 11 months
after the death of his father. In one of the most striking passages
from the Fliess correspondence, Freud reported his loss of conviction
about the seduction theory (his "neurotica") and articulated
the reasons for his change of mind. In light of the careful scrutiny
this letter has received in recent discussions of Freud (see McGrath,
1986; Krüll, 1986; Balmary, 1982), it is rather surprising
that the entire set of reasons Freud gave for abandoning his "neurotica"
has received little attention. Freud mentioned several motives
for his change of mind, classed in groups.
The continual disappointment in my efforts to bring
a single analysis to a real conclusion; the running away of
people who for a period of time had been most gripped [by analysis];
the absence of the complete successes on which I had counted;
the possibility of explaining to myself the partial successes
in other ways, in the usual fashion--this was the first group.
Then the surprise that in all cases, the father, not excluding
my own (mein eigener nicht ausgeschlossen), had to be
accused of being perverse--[and] the realization of the unexpected
frequency of hysteria, with precisely the same conditions prevailing
in each, whereas surely such widespread perversions against
children are not very probable. The [incidence] of perversion
would have to be immeasurably more frequent than the [resulting]
hysteria because the illness, after all, occurs only where there
has been an accumulation of events and there is a contributory
factor that weakens the defense. Then, third, the certain insight
that there are no indications of reality in the unconscious,
so that one cannot distinguish between truth and fiction that
has been cathected with affect. (Accordingly, there would remain
the solution that the sexual fantasy invariably seizes upon
the theme of the parents) (Masson, 1985, 264).
The first set of reasons, that perverse acts against
children might be common, is epidemiological. The second -- that
fathers, including Freud's own, stand condemned -- is Oedipal/psychoanalytic.
The third, having to do with the difficulty of establishing that
any long-term memory is factual, is the most telling, and
the most over-determined. This becomes the argument of his brilliant
short paper on "Screen Memories" two years later (Freud, 1899).
The practical impossibility of reliably distinguishing memory
from wish in the unconscious points directly to central
issues in psychoanalysis: the need for free association and extensive
anamnesis in the context of a relationship between analyst and
patient that allows continued study of the role of emotional needs
in the memories and fantasies of each. In the psychoanalytic transference
therapy Freud was beginning to practice by the time he wrote The
Interpretation of Dreams, no particular memory could be known
with certainty. The web of connectedness that gradually emerged
from the collaboration of therapist and patient was believed to
reveal the salient aspects of the latter's personality.
In a detailed analysis of Freud's overdetermined
involvement with the Oedipus myth, Rudnytsky (1987) called attention
to Freud's consistent failure to mention the birth and death of
his younger brother Julius at seemingly appropriate junctures
in his self-analysis. Only in the 1897 letter quoted above and
in a November 24, 1912 letter to Ferenczi explaining his several
fainting fits in the Park Hotel does Freud mention that such events
must stem from an early experience with death. Freud's reaction
to his brother's sudden infant death made Freud himself an instance
of his own later theory of "Those Wrecked by Success" (Freud,
1916).
After his brother's death, Freud too was "wrecked
by success," and left with an uncanny dread of the omnipotence
of his own wishes. His agitation on receiving the medallion
on his fiftieth birthday, when he again experienced in reality
the fulfillment of a "long-cherished wish," becomes explicable
when it is seen as an unconscious reminder of the death of Julius.
By the same token, had it not happened that the
death of Julius left in him the germ of "guilt," or, more literally,
the "germ of reproaches," Freud would almost certainly not have
responded with such "obstinate condolment" to the death of his
father. In his unconscious mind, he must have believed that
his patricidal wishes had caused his father's death, just as
he was responsible for that of Julius (Rudnytsky, 1987, 20).
The pattern of murderous rivalry and uncanny love
Freud identified as a man of 40 in his unconscious memories of
Julius became a template for his relations with male disciples
(Coleman, 1994, Hartke, 1994; Roustang, 1982).
Freudian Correspondence
Freud was a prolific letter writer throughout his
long life, and his rhetorical gifts often found their most vivid
expression in his personal correspondence. Each of Freud's relationships
with a man in the early period of psychoanalysis is mediated by
a woman. In this triangle, Freud's possible homoerotic feelings
for the man can be aroused and sublimated. Freud's adolescent
letters to his friend Silberstein, for example, testify to the
extent to which his first romantic crush, on the pubescent Gisela
Fluss, was in fact motivated in large measure by his fascination
with her mother and her older brother (Boehlich, 1990). His later
letters repeatedly illustrate this motif.
The recent publication of the first volume of the
voluminous correspondence between Freud and Sandor Ferenczi, the
Hungarian colleague with whom he maintained a twenty-five year
professional and personal relationship (Brabant, Falzeder, and
Giampieri-Deutsch, 1993), provides new information about Freud's
personal and professional concerns during the crucial period of
his relations with Jung. Ferenczi offered Freud his admiring friendship
in January, 1908 by requesting a meeting in Vienna to discuss
ideas for a lecture on Freud's theory of the actual neuroses and
psychoneuroses. Ferenczi was "eager to approach personally the
professor whose teachings have occupied me constantly for over
a year" (Brabant, Falzeder, and Giampieri-Deutsch, 1993, 1). From
the first, Ferenczi's letters display a rather obsequious devotion
to Feud's personality and theories. Freud's short note in response
to Ferenczi's request expressed regret at not being able on account
of the illness of several family members to invite Ferenczi and
his colleague Philipp Stein to dinner, "as we were able to do
in better times with Dr. Jung and Dr. Abraham" (ibid., 2). A month
later, in his second letter, Ferenczi refers to Freud a paranoid
woman, offers to contribute to Freud's joke collection, and expresses
his commitment to Freud's psychosexual theory of the neuroses
affirming that it "should no longer be called a theory" (Brabant,
Falzeder, and Giampieri-Deutsch, 1993, 4), closing with "kindest
regards from your most obedient Dr. Ferenczi" (ibid.).
Obedient Ferenczi was to prove himself over the long years of
Freud's patronage, until the end of his life when he suggested
that his transference onto Freud had never been adequately analyzed,
prompting Freud's last methodological paper, "Analysis Terminable
and Interminable" (Freud, 1937).
In striking contrast to Ferenczi, Jung from the
first set limits on the relationship with Freud. Jung also anticipated
where the fatal tension would occur -- the father-son transference
inevitable in discipleship to Freud, and Freud's insistence on
acquiescence to his psychosexual theory. Roustang (1982, 36-54
and passim) traces Jung's caution on the subject of infantile
sexuality from the first correspondence with Freud in 1906 to
the crisis in their relationship in 1912 (cf. Gay, 1983, 197-243).
Freud's references to sublimated homosexual feeling
as the key to male bonding is ubiquitous in both correspondences
but is played out more systematically with Jung and more therapeutically
with Ferenczi, who regularly attributes his anxieties about communicating
with Freud to homoerotic issues. For his part, Jung admits in
a remarkable letter early in the friendship in 1907 that his "boundless
admiration" for Freud "both as a man and as a researcher" constantly
evokes a "self-preservation complex," which he explains as follows:
[M]y veneration for you has something of the character
of a "religious" crush. Though it does not really bother me,
I still feel it is disgusting and ridiculous because of its
undeniable erotic undertone. This abominable feeling comes from
the fact that as a boy I was the victim of a sexual assault
by a man I once worshipped (McGuire, 1974, 95).
Freud's next letter, curiously, has been lost. The matter does
not seem to have been explicitly raised again. Each time Jung
might have felt seductively approached by Freud, however, he
withdraws. Each time Freud might have felt attacked by Jung,
he panics -- in two instances, by fainting.
Freud's relationship with Ferenczi seems to have allowed him
to play a more supportive father with the infantile Hungarian
than he could to the aggressive Swiss. In one letter, written
after Freud and Ferenczi had traveled together to Italy in 1910,
Freud complains to Jung about Ferenczi's effeminate dependence:
My traveling companion is a dear fellow, but dreamy
in a disturbing kind of way, and his attitude towards me is
infantile. He never stops admiring me, which I don't like, and
is probably sharply critical of me in his unconscious when I
am taking it easy. He has been too passive and receptive, letting
everything be done for him like a woman, and I really haven't
got enough homosexuality in me to accept him as one. These trips
arouse a real longing for a real woman. (McGuire, 1974, 353)
The three men had traveled together to the US in
1909 so that Freud and Jung could take part in a symposium at Clark
University in Worcester, Mass. In the correspondence of Freud with
each of the other men about plans for the trip and its aftermath,
Jung seems the mature older brother and Ferenczi the dependent younger
one. Both Jung's and Freud's remarks were well received by their
elite audience of American psychologists, including G. Stanley Hall
and William James (Rosenzweig, 1992) but, as we shall see, a return
invitation to America was the occasion for the rupture of relations
between Freud and Jung.
The Eternal Triangle
Throughout his life, Freud experienced competitive
feelings for a woman whom he shared with a male intimate companion.
The resulting male-female-male triangles usually brought Freud's
relationship with the male to a crisis. The prototype, in his
own view, was Freud's infantile lust for his mother -- threatened
when he was displaced from her breast by the birth of baby brother
Julius, and eventuating in prototypical guilt when Julius seemed
to succumb to Sigmund's hatred by dying (Krüll, 1986)). The
second instance, recovered by Freud in his analysis of the screen
memory of playing in a meadow (Freud, 1899), involved his half-brother
Emmanuel's children, John and Pauline Freud. In this memory the
aggressive and sexual elements were merged, as three-year-old
Sigmund and four-year-old John threw Pauline to the ground and
took her dandelions -- "deflowered" her.
Freud's collaboration with Josef Breuer on Studies
in Hysteria, published in 1895, produced the first detailed
account of a "psychoanalytic" therapy directed at the alleviation
of symptoms by recovery of repressed memories. The treatment by
Breuer of Bertha Papenheim ("Anna O.") had been conducted by Breuer
in the early 1880s and recounted to Freud when the latter was
a medical student engaged to Martha Bernays. Breuer was reluctant
to publish the case fifteen years later, and Freud attributed
this reluctance to unanalyzed erotic feelings Breuer had conceived
for his young female patient. The details of Breuer's feelings
are still in doubt (cf. Hirschmüller, 1989), but the account
Freud gave Ernest Jones and other psychoanalytic colleagues later
suggests a fantasy identification with Breuer. Freud's account,
reported in Jones's biography (Jones, 1953), suggested that Breuer's
guilt over his erotic feelings for Bertha brought the therapy
to a premature close and led to an anxious renewal of the Breuer
marriage in the birth of a daughter, Dora (Jones, 1953).
Freud's own choice of the pseudonym "Dora" for his
patient Ida Bauer suggests both his identification with Breuer
and his obsession with exposing the erotic source of the patient's
symptoms, as Breuer had feared to do (Decker, 1982, 1991). Freud's
interpretation of his 1895 dream of "Irma's Injection," the exemplar
to which he devotes a chapter in the Interpretation of Dreams
(Freud, 1900), was produced when his friendship with Breuer was
under great strain and his devotion to Fliess at its height. The
dream casts Breuer ("Dr. M.") as a bungling therapist who has
missed the sexual cause of Irma's neurosis, and Freud's interpretation
spares Fliess the accusation that the patient's bleeding was caused
by careless surgery to cure her hysteria through removal of "sexual"
nerves in her nose (Davis, 1990; Masson, 1984).
Rudnytsky sets in apposition three of these Freudian
triangles -- with John and Pauline; with Wilhelm Fliess and Emma
Eckstein (Freud's patient on whose nose Fliess operated in 1895)
and with Jung and Sabina Spielrein -- and argues that that this
configuration affected Freud's treatment of his adolescent patient
"Dora" (Freud, 1905). Freud's fantasy alignment of himself with
the would-be seducer (Herr K.) of his adolescent patient was the
transition from the second to the third triangle (Rudnytsky, 1987,
37-38).
Sabina Spielrein
Jung's controversial treatment of his young female
patient Sabina Spielrein has been the subject of two books (Carotenuto,
1982; Kerr, 1993). It certainly appears that Jung was personally,
and even erotically, involved with his patient both during and
after his formal treatment of her. Much of the Freud-Jung-Spielrein
correspondence, along with Spielrein's fascinating and disturbing
diary, was published in Carotenuto's 1982 A Secret Symmetry,
but Kerr's book is the first thorough examination of her influence.
Spielrein was a severely disturbed young Russian Jewish woman
who was treated by Jung in 1904 as a test case in psychoanalysis.
She maintained an intimate friendship with Jung for many years,
trained in psychoanalysis with Freud, corresponded with both men
during the crucial years of their friendship and subsequent alienation,
and influenced Russian clinical psychology in the 1920s and '30s.
Working from Spielrein's diary, her correspondence with Freud,
Jung's correspondence with Freud about her, and her own published
papers, Kerr traces in detail Spielrein's influence on both men's
theories.
At the time Jung's correspondence with Freud began
in 1906, Spielrein's clinical material pertaining to anal eroticism
seems to have convinced him of the importance of Freud's assertions
on the subject (Freud, 1905a; Kerr, 1993). Spielrein played an
especially important role in Jung's theory of the anima and in
Freud's theory of a destructive instinct. As he had with Fliess
a decade earlier, Freud avoided criticizing Jung's treatment of
Spielrein even when there was reason to suspect that the therapy
had miscarried badly. Spielrein's diary reveals a fantasy of having
a child ("Siegfried") by Jung that Jung seems to have encouraged
in therapy sessions even as he denied to Freud that the relationship
was sexual (Carotenuto, 1982; McGuire, 1974).
Oedipus Redivivus
The last stage of the Freud-Jung friendship was
characterized by each man's preoccupation with the role of universal
aggressive and erotic forces in childhood personality development.
For Freud the result was a renewed commitment to orthodox Oedipal
theory, while for Jung the result was his typology of individual
differences that allowed him to validate different analytic approached,
encompassing Freud's, Adler's, and Jung's own of sexual and aggressive
feelings as they intersect with symbols of a collective unconscious.
By 1911 the Freud-Jung correspondence is full of the problem of
Adler's and Stekel's defections. Freud notes that he is "becoming
steadily more impatient of Adler's paranoia and longing for an
occasion to throw him out ... especially since seeing a performance
of Oedipus Rex here -- the tragedy of the 'arranged libido'" (McGuire,
1974, 422). Referring to Adler as "Fliess redivivus," Freud also
notes that Stekel's first name is Wilhelm, suggesting that both
relationships evoked the ending of his friendship with Wilhelm
Fliess in 1901, because of what Freud described as Fliess's paranoia.
Like Ferenczi, Jung had lent a sympathetic ear in
1911 while Freud struggled to explain Schreber's paranoia in terms
of repressed homosexuality (Freud, 1911), but the sympathy was
not reciprocated. Freud expressed confusion and distress with
Jung's attempts to explain his rational for Transformations
and Symbols of the Libido the following year. Even in the
early days of Oedipal theory in the late 1890s, Freud had suggested
to Fliess that because each of us has experienced and repressed
a personal Oedipus complex it will always be tempting to revise
our account of development to omit or downplay the role of infantile
sexuality. Such revisionist accounts will find favor with the
public, Freud argued, since they leave each person's repressions
intact. Despite frequent assurances from Freud that neither Jung's
friendship nor his role in psychoanalysis could be in doubt, there
is a growing sense of each man protesting too much. Subsequently,
Jung's increasing independence begins to arouse Freud's avuncular
concern and finally his hostility in the summer of 1912, as Jung
discussed the lectures he was preparing for a second trip to America.
On his return in November Jung sent Freud a letter
describing the enthusiasm with which his talks on psychoanalysis
were received and added:
Naturally I made room for those of my views which
deviate in places from the hitherto existing conceptions, particularly
in regard to the libido theory. (McGuire,1974, 515)
Freud's reply immediately revealed the chill that
was descending on the relationship:
I greet you on your return from America, no longer
as affectionately as on the last occasion in Nuremberg -- you
have successfully broken me of that habit -- but still with
considerable sympathy, interest, and satisfaction at your personal
success. (McGuire,1974, 517)
After repeated exchanges about the now-famous "Kreuzlingen
gesture" -- Jung's hurt feelings that Freud did not arrange to
meet him while visiting his colleague Binswanger in Kreuzlingen,
Switzerland, and Freud's hurt feelings that Jung did not show
up -- a confrontation occurs. Freud gets Jung to admit that he
could have inferred the necessary details to appear, and Jung
surprisingly recalls that he had been away that weekend. At lunch
afterwards, Freud offers hearty and seemingly friendly criticism
of Jung and then drops into a faint, in the same room where he
had passed out prior to the 1909 trip to Clark University with
Jung and Ferenczi. It was also the same room where he had quarreled
with Fliess in 1901.
When Freud attempts shortly thereafter to interpret
Jung's slip that "even Adler's and Stekel's disciples don't consider
me one of theirs/yours," Jung has had enough:
May I say a few words to you in earnest? I admit the
ambivalence of my feelings towards you, but am inclined to take
an honest and absolutely straightforward view of the situation.
If you doubt my word, so much the worse for you. I would, however,
point out that your technique of treating your pupils like patients
is a blunder. In that way you produce either slavish
sons or impudent puppies (Adler-Stekel and the whole insolent
gang now throwing their weight about in Vienna). I am objective
enough to see through your little trick. You go about sniffing
out all the symptomatic actions in your vicinity, thus reducing
everyone to the level of sons and daughters who blushingly admit
the existence of their faults. Meanwhile you remain on top as
the father, sitting pretty. For sheer obsequiousness nobody
dares to pluck the prophet by the beard and inquire for once
what you would say to a patient with a tendency to analyze the
analyst instead of himself. You would certainly ask him: "who's
got the neurosis?" (McGuire, 1974, 534-535).
Jung's assault on Freud's cherished assumptions
is frontal. Freud projects his hostility onto his disciples. Freud
has never come to terms with his own neurosis. Freud's methods
are one-sidedly sexual. His self-understanding is flawed, and
he is -- in the case where it matters most -- no therapist. Freud
brooded over his response to this letter and sent a draft reply
to Ferenczi for comment, speaking of his shame and anger at the
personal insult (Brabant, Falzeder, & Giampieri-Deutch, 1993),
and finally suggested to Jung that they end their personal relationship.
Jung left his positions as head of the movement and editor or
its major journal the following year.
Roustang (1982, 7) cites a comment of Freud's to
Groddeck in 1917 that "the discovery that transference and resistance
are the most important aspects of the treatment turns a person
irrevocably into a member of the primal horde." In Totem and
Taboo (Freud, 1914), written while the bitterness of the quarrel
with Jung was fresh, Freud laid out an anthropological fantasy
of primal incest and parricide as justification for a proto-sociobiological
theory of the evolution of society. Jung was now, in Freud's view,
one of the brother band along with Adler and Stekel, eager to
devour and replace the old man.
Jung's account of Freud in subsequent writings carefully
acknowledges the seminal importance of dream interpretation and
the role of the unconscious in symptom formation. Jung takes Freud's
emphasis on childhood sexuality as evidence of his one-sidedness,
however, suggests the need for concomitant analysis of aggressive
strivings (cf. Adler), and treats the Oedipus complex in terms
of the universal role of myth in the psyche (Jung 1956, 1961).
Much of Jung's distinctive mission in the decades after Freud
was to affirm the creative and prospective, rather than the regressive
and reductionistic, role of myth in each life span. Transformations
and Symbols of the Libido was reissued in several editions,
and was finally substantially revised in the last years of Jung's
life. At that time Jung noted that thirty-seven years had not
diminished the book's problematic importance for him:
The whole thing came upon me like a landslide that
cannot be stopped. The urgency that lay behind it became clear
to me only later: it was the explosion of all those psychic
contents that could find no room, no breathing space, in the
constricting atmosphere of Freudian psychology and its narrow
outlook (Jung, 1956, xxiii).
When Jung joined psychoanalysis in 1907, it could
plausibly claim to be a radical new psychology, devised by Freud
and consisting of several related parts: a powerful hermeneutics
(Freud, 1900), a revolutionary and partly empirical theory of
personality development (Freud, 1905a), a novel therapeutic methodology
(Freud, 1905b), and a rudimentary theory of cultural psychology
(Freud, 1900). Freud's work on dreams, neurotic etiology, and
child development were becoming known beyond Vienna, and a psychoanalytic
movement was about to form. When Jung left Freud and the International
Psychoanalytic Association, both were players on a world stage
and Jung was half-ready to launch a movement of his own. Freud's
political leadership of the psychoanalytic movement was vested
in an orthodox body-guard (Grosskurth, 1991) and for most of the
next 24 years he remained in the background, tinkering with the
peripheral concepts of his theories and watching jealously that
no variant psychoanalysis abandoned the core premise of childhood
sexuality. Freud's ideas remained important to psychology for
decades, and his notions regarding cultural evolution had wide
influence in other disciplines, but classical psychoanalysis as
a therapeutic movement became reified around libidinal drive theory
and its most original and fertile new hypotheses were developed
by practitioners who in one way or another were considered "unorthodox."
Ultimately the professional relationship foundered
on arguments over "libido" and its transformations, i.e.,
on the theory of motivational energy and of the relationship between
conscious and unconscious phenomena. Behind this professional
squabble lay the aggressive and erotic emotions evident in the
letters. Had Freud and Jung sustained their relationship for a
few more years, psychoanalytic history would have been very different.
There might have been a complete and coherent account of the requirements
for psychoanalytic therapy and training (and perhaps a clearer
distinction between them) (cf. Kerr, 1993). An adequate theory
of female eroticism and gender might have had its beginnings (Kofman,
1985). The interplay of sexual and aggressive emotions
in human development would have been addressed explicitly instead
of being deflected into tendentious anthropological speculation,
and the spiritual aspect of life would perhaps have found a place
in theory and in therapy.
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This draft text
was written for a forthcoming Cambridge Companion to Jung.
Do not cite without my permission. Copyright (C) Douglas A. Davis,
1995. All rights reserved.
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